


Find Me Still Searching: A Black Fox Tale

by Lonyn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Established Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Eventual Smut, F/M, Past Relationship Sebastian Vael/Hawke, Slow Burn, tevinter nights spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29858796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonyn/pseuds/Lonyn
Summary: Solas has found the Black Fox, Lord Remi Vascal, in a slumber within the depths of Arlathan and realizes only he knows the location to the hidden stronghold which holds a secret he thinks he can use. Solas tells Remi in order to save his old companions he must find his scattered rings, but the famed Black Fox has to go through Hawke if he wants to succeed. Will he side with Hawke and her friends to stop Solas from whatever he has planned, or will he be able to save his dearest comrades from their fate and get a second chance at a new life he's not so sure he deserves? Set Post Trespasser.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Remi Vascal, Hawke/Remi Vascal, Remi Vascal/Female Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck it, I'm gonna start posting this! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ This is my new version of my Black Fox fic. I'm still obsessed with Thedosian Robin Hood and no one can stop me. I just lost steam and interest on the OC I created for my other fic. After a lot of thinking I decided to incorporate my Hawke and explore how the two of them would work together in my eyes. So welcome to my obsession again xD

The air felt thick as he was shuffled into a room; his mind groggy as if he’d just woken from a deep sleep. He felt confused and sick to his stomach barely remembering what the elf with the intimidating demeanor said when he felt like he was plucked from the void. Other elves were pushing him forward, and he nearly toppled, bracing himself against the wall. He needed to catch his breath; the sleep still clung to his eyes.

A rough push at his back shoved him along, and soon he was in another room. A large mirror was rooted on the far side; he couldn’t help thinking that it looked familiar. It wasn’t long before it shimmered with life, and the elf from before emerged. He pushed back his hood, his head was devoid of hair and his air was superior. He was certainly unlike any elf he’d ever met before. He’d seen Dalish, which the others mostly looked like to him, city elves as well, and plenty of well met adventurers, but never an elf like him.

“Remi Vascal, the famed Black Fox. An Orlesian Lord in his own right terrorizing the rich. You have something of mine I need.” He clasped his hands behind his back and he couldn’t help the confusion that washed over him. There were whispers around him; a couple bare faced elves pointed at him. One even smiled his way.

“I… am not who you say I am.” He tried to bring back the old cunning he used to possess, but the hollowness was beginning to seep forth again. As much as he tried to bury it and hide it from his companions he wasn’t the same after he was captured and tortured. Somehow what he just woke up from felt almost the same.

The elf didn’t seem in the mood for his denials. “You need not deny your identity. I’ve dreamt and seen the truth. The spirits within the forest of Arlathan whispered of your adventure. How you managed to slip through without disturbing the whims of the guardians puzzles me, yet I do not have time for your explanation nor your attempt at cunning wit.”

Remi wasn’t sure what else he could do; he was convinced he knew who he was. “What do you want with me?” He looked at the ground.

“It’s quite simple.” The elf was domineering, spine rigid, giving the appearance of him towering over him. If Remi was feeling better he wouldn’t be so hunched, able to stand to that man’s intimidating stance. “Your rings as well as your stronghold do not belong to you. They belong to my people, and I need them back. However I do not know where they are, nor do I have the time and available resources to seek them out, yet I see you still possess two of them.”

Remi glanced down at his hands, one ring was still on his thumb, the other on his index finger. The rest had been taken when he was captured. He knew where one should be if it hadn’t been found, and possibly another, but the others were lost to him.

“Worry not, Fox, I’m sure your cunning mind shall aid you in your search. Upon finding those rings you will take me to the stronghold. There is something within that does not belong to you.”

It finally dawned on him why that mirror looked so familiar, and he glanced behind the man. There was one within his stronghold. He never paid it any mind; it was far too large to move anywhere, and it didn’t seem valuable when he stumbled upon it.

“What do I get out of this? My life? What is that worth anymore? I don’t even know how long I was trapped.”

“Fifty years have since passed. I offer your cherished companions back to you. They were with you, were they not?”

His heart skipped a beat. He did come here with Karolis, Bolek, and Clementis, however the details were fuzzy. He didn’t remember anything about coming to the forest. It was all a blur.

“And yes, a second chance. You may live out the rest of your days how you see fit. _After_ you accomplish this task. Stray from it and your life, as well as your friends, is forfeit.”

Remi shook his head. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

A smirk spread to his lips. “You do not, yet it is the truth.”

He had no choice if he wanted to live though he couldn’t help admitting that he’d wished for death on more than one occasion after his torture. Yet if there was a chance that his friends could be saved he would do whatever it took to achieve their freedom.

He nodded; the elf seemed pleased. He waved his hand and made his leave while the other elves ushered him off to another chamber. There was something in the air though, a half-remembered dream seeming to find him. Something tickled at the back of his mind that he was led here and taken care of. Something thought it kept him safe; the whispers were soft, but he could hear them.

The other elves did not, however, so he ignored it though the sadness seemed to linger only a moment longer.

It wasn’t long before he was given a bow and a pack that he was told had essentials within. The elf led him through one of those mirrors, an eluvian he thought he’d heard, and almost immediately he felt a heaviness within. It was as if the air had thickened making his limbs weaker. It didn’t help that he still felt weary from his supposed fifty year slumber.

“I know of a lead for a ring, Lord Vascal. I placed a book inside your pack should you like to read up on their tale should it prove beneficial for your hunt.”

Remi followed him through the area, several mirrors placed paces apart. There were strange looking trees with branches shaped like orbs, and a perpetual fog that was quite eerie. He focused on following the elf, and though his instincts screamed at him to do something, he knew he needed to get far away from him in order to develop a plan that suited this particular situation. His friends’ lives were at stake and he dare not risk it when he didn’t know what this man was capable of.

“This eluvian will take you to ruins within a forest not far from your destination. Tread carefully. However, since you were able to weave your way through the forest of Arlathan and all her wicked ways, I doubt the Planasene will offer much challenge for an adventurer as esteemed as yourself. Find your way to Kirkwall, Black Fox. Her champion possesses a ring.”

~~

The night was hot and sticky and Hawke groaned into her pillow remembering why she hated and left Kirkwall to begin with. Well, there were many reasons to leave Kirkwall, but the insufferable warm nights were certainly a factor.

She rolled over to turn her gaze upon the window left wide open with no offerings of a windy boon to sate her thirst for a cool breeze. “Maker, take me,” she grumbled. She loathed nights like this. Restless nights like this were what set her mind to wander over every little miniscule detail she regretted in her life.

She sat up, unruly dark brown hair falling from its messy bun atop her head. She was almost ready to toss her tunic and sleep shorts, but it was often that some visitor needed her damn attention at all odd hours when they heard she was back in Kirkwall. Though the only companions that remained these days were Aveline and Varric.

Carver was off with the wardens which made her heart clench in anger. Last she’d heard they were on some secret mission within the Deep Roads and it unnerved her. She hadn’t heard from Merrill in a long while. Isabela was off being an Admiral she was sure, stopping by every so often according to Varric. Fenris was doing great work getting rid of slavers and whatever else he tasked himself to.

Sebastian was… Sebastian was back in Starkhaven where he belonged doing what he was born to do. She often wondered what could’ve been had they stayed together, but there was no way she was cut out for the life of a princess, Maker forbid. Parting ways was the best thing for them, and though it ached, she knew they were both better off. She took in a deep breath, letting it all out in a huff.

She stretched her long limbs and figured since she was awake she could go down to the courtyard and blow off some steam. Before she could move and set herself to the task she heard something. It was extremely faint, but she would never be able to mistake the sound of someone sneaking about in her home. Her senses were always on high alert when in Kirkwall after all the shit she’d gone through here.

She’d long ago bade farewell to her help around this estate; there was no sense in them taking care of the place when she was barely ever here anyway. Varric took care of Orana having employed her at the Keep, and Bodahn and Sandal were off on another adventure.

She listened carefully unable to hear another sound, but the unsettling feeling was washing over her. Someone was here; she could _feel_ it. Her companions would’ve announced themselves, usually rather loudly. They were never quiet upon entering her home and she would’ve heard the never ending creak of the front door.

She got up and padded quietly across the floor, surprisingly sneaky for someone so tall as Varric used to say. She stood beside her door waiting on bated breath. It took a while, but in the meantime she’d heard the sound of the drawers opening at the writing desk downstairs. Finally a hand was on the knob, and she knew they were good by how quietly the turn was. As soon as the door slowly slid open she grabbed the wrist of the intruder and threw him to the floor.

He was startled, but he rolled up to his feet almost immediately. He was masked, a hood over his head as well, and just a little taller than her. She didn’t let that stop her. She wasn’t one to shy away from brute force and almost instantly they began to fight. She could sense the hesitation in his movements though, as if he wasn’t intending to harm her.

“Think you’re clever do you?” She backhanded him hard across the face and he grunted as he charged at her, managing to land a kick to her side that sent her tumbling.

“I’m not here to kill you,” he grunted, and she could hear the Orlesian accent on his words. “I just need—”

She didn’t let him finish, smashing her fist across his cheek and sent him down to the floor. He whipped her legs out from underneath her though and she felt the air leave her lungs as she hit the floor hard. She was winded, as was he, and she noticed the knives at his thighs that he’d failed to unsheathe.

Before he could recover and figure out what to do, she rolled backwards toward the door and slammed it shut then leapt over the railing, crashing with a roll onto the floor. She groaned, feeling the ache shudder through her body.

“You’re too fucking old for that,” she admonished herself, and ran towards the door to grab her lance. She was too careless, her weapons were in a heap in the foyer. She heard him behind her and felt a sting at her arm as she watched a knife bounce back after the hilt ricocheted off the door. She grabbed her chest plate turning to whip it towards him and he quickly ducked.

Picking up her lance she swung the blade towards him and he jumped back, but the blade caught the leather at his waist and sliced him. A line of curses and shouts in Orlesian left him, and she winced as she looked at her arm. Blood was trickling down it, but she felt funny. Her mind was beginning to cloud.

“Fucking… Orlesian bastard!” A growl escaped her as she charged at him, but her lance fell from her hands as she struggled to stand.

“Désolé… I’m sorry.” He moved towards her and she could hear him muttering in Orlesian until she heard the last bit in common. “—too fucking old for this.” She would’ve laughed if she wasn’t trying to keep herself awake.

She fell her knees buckle and he caught her in his arms. “It’ll only make you sleep. I promise I will not harm you.” He eased them both to the floor and she felt his hand on hers. “It looks good on you, Hawke, but it does not belong to you.” He slipped off the ring from her thumb, and she couldn’t help reflexively grabbing at his wrist for it. When she found the Black Fox’s ring it meant a lot to her to have it. She didn’t want to give it up and certainly not to some asshole who outsmarted her for it.

Her grip loosened on his wrist, and her panicked breathing began to slow as her eyes fluttered closed.

“It no longer belongs to me either…” He muttered, and she drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke woke with a start when she heard her front door shut with a bang all the way up in her room. Her body ached at the sudden movement, and her joints cracked and popped on their own accord.

“Fuck,” she shook her head, face in her palm.

“Hawke?” She could hear Varric’s voice carry upstairs.

“Give me a minute,” she called back. “That prick,” she muttered as the night before came back to her. The sun was blazing outside already heading down in the sky. She made a face, confusion settling at her brow, when she realized that she was in bed, clothes all still in place. She noticed a pop of white at the slit on her sleeve and was even more flustered that he’d taken the time to patch the wound he’d given her.

Quickly she washed up in her washroom, slipping on a pair of trousers and a light shirt. She went downstairs via the stairs this go around, and her knees thanked her as much as they could. Varric was in the kitchen pouring some drinks.

“You just waking up? You look like shit. What’d you do last night?” He was chuckling, handing her a mug and she could thankfully smell the whiskey he’d slipped in there.

“I didn’t sleep in by choice. I was robbed last night,” she pointedly spoke, sipping at the coffee laced with liquor. It was the good kind of warmth that seeped into her bones, but she was also desperately in the mood for water.

Varric’s brow quirked. “What? Please elaborate because I think you just said you got robbed?”

“Yes. An Orlesian rogue who thinks he’s fucking clever broke in here. We fought and he managed to slash me with a dagger and poisoned me.”

“What’d he take?”

“My ring. The Black Fox’s ring!”

Varric snorted, shaking his head. “You’re telling me that some Orlesian rogue, who sounds like he has a hardon for playing Black Fox, broke in here and stole that ring right off your finger?”

“You make it sound as if I simply gave it to him. He poisoned me! I was not prepared.”

“I told you, you should’ve stayed at the Keep. Shokrakar and her Valo-Kas team are to the job. Aveline wasn’t thrilled, but she came around to the idea. Between those two, your rogue wouldn’t have gotten near you.”

She glared his way which caused him to laugh again. She drank some more of her coffee before setting it between them. She was itching to go after him. If he was after rings then he’d certainly be going to Orlais next. She knew that Grand Duke Gaspard and Empress Celene each had one.

“You have that look, Hawke. You’re going to try and find him? He’s to the wind.”

“Varric, can you contact Madame de Fer and see if there’s been any thefts regarding rings in Orlais?”

“Ah, I see. Clever. I take it your stay in Kirkwall will be short this time?”

“It wasn’t intended to be long, but I figure I can detour to Orlais for a bit to recover my ring.”

“This guy sounds dangerous. What’re you planning to do?”

She smirked, pouring some water into her empty mug. “Well, the one thing I gathered was he didn’t want to hurt me. The bastard patched me up and I woke up unharmed in my bed.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes… He said something interesting too before I passed out. ‘It no longer belongs to me either.’ Think that means anything?”

Varric made a face. “I don’t know. Could be he’s lost his marbles and _thinks_ he’s the Black Fox. Maybe he’s family? With all the weird shit going on he could probably be the real deal.” They were both silent until they broke into a fit of laughter.

“That’s a good one, Varric.”

“It had to be said. So what _are_ you here for?”

“To be honest not for much. I was checking in to see if there were any letters from Carver… I haven’t spoken to him in a while, and I’m worried.”

His frown told her everything as he shook his head. “We’ve gotten no letters, Hawke. I’m sorry.”

She let out a sigh as she leaned against the counter. “It’s to be expected. How are you doing?”

“Well,” he huffed, “where to start? Been splitting my time between trying to get Kirkwall back on its feet and the shit up north. Solas is to the wind as much as he ever was. Hahya said she hasn’t seen him in her dreams either.”

“The poor woman still sees him in the fade?”

He nodded, “yeah, it wasn’t often, but she said it’s been a year since she last spotted him. He’s never spoken and when she’s tried to reach him he fucks off like the coward he is,” he muttered, glaring at nothing. He waved his hand, “I really do believe if there’s one person to change his mind it’s her. Chuckles has a soft spot and with that shit that manifested at Skyhold a year ago?”

“A demon of regret wasn’t it? I heard about that.”

“Yeah, Sutherland even said it muttered ‘there might have been a better choice.’”

“You really think there’s anything good left in Solas? If he was even good in the first place at this point.”

Varric shook his head, shrugging. “I don’t know. I know we gave her a lot of shit for thinking she can still change his mind, but… Considering how powerful he is? That may be our only option. Plus, it doesn’t help when there’s a bunch of other things that are blowing up in our faces that are screaming for attention.”

She snorted, “Yes, there are very unsettling rumors about. I’m not too fond of the worry of a new blight. Solas better hurry with destroying the world if that’s on the horizon,” she shuddered. “I’ve no doubt Carver’s in the middle of it. Fucking brat wouldn’t have it any other way. No matter how much shit I told him the Wardens have done.”

“Well, despite all the other crap they are a noble lot. I know Alistair and Ohahn defected a long time ago, but they seem to be searching for a cure or other shit to get into.”

She nodded, “Speaking of Ohahn, with what happened with Corypheus, the last time I saw her she said she’s worried about the Architect somehow coming back to life. I think they’re investigating that as well, and it’s making me think that’s why Carver’s been away so long.”

“Look at Junior doing grown up shit.”

“They grow up so fast.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.”

They chatted a little while longer till the pull of hunger brought her with him to the keep where she ate in contemplative silence amongst his companions. It was strange to see Qunari here, almost a little unnerving, but they definitely weren’t _Qunari_ , and she had to get that thought into her head. They were lighthearted and fun though and she enjoyed watching Varric and Shokrakar telling stories back and forth.

She sat back in her chair swilling the wine in her goblet. She was trying to recall any and every detail about last night. It was the oddest thing that his every counter to her moves was held back considerably. She fought plenty of bandits hand to hand to know the difference. He could’ve hit harder, but he didn’t. He held back strikes despite his desperation. She heard it in his voice, he _needed_ that ring. There was a sadness there too. She saw it in the golden honey brown of his eyes; the rich color of them were visible as he stared down at her.

His mask and garb were simple. It barely looked fitted. She’d heard plenty of Orlesians, much to her chagrin, to know that he sounded like he came from the upper tier. He was rushed, however.

It seemed he really was emulating the Black Fox, and according to Varric there were no known relatives of the infamous Vascal line. He already sent a messenger crow on its way to Madame de Fer, and she hoped they’d hear word sooner rather later. She was itching to go after him; she currently had no pressing concerns to tend to.


	3. Chapter 3

The tavern was rather loud when all Remi wanted was peace and quiet, but the draw of food was too strong, and he had to compromise as he finished off his wine. He felt so uninterested in anything, barely a shade of himself, and he hated this hollow feeling opening wider within.

He saw the stares of pretty ladies, and even his old amorous self wouldn’t stir. He thought of Servana, a twitch of anger blooming at the thought of her. It still stung that she’d betrayed him, and that it took more than a year for her to tell his friends where he was taken. That was when his rings were spread to the wind.

He always left three hidden near the ruins of his estate just in case, buried in a secret place that he was sure no one would find lest they raze the entire lake. When he was finally rescued, he went back and took two leaving one. The other six were stolen when he was detained, and he knew Servana took the one from his left ring finger, while he was sleeping, the night before she betrayed him. As if it wasn’t obvious where that one went given their history.

His count was at four; his next stop would be heading back to the old grounds of his family’s estate and seeing what became of the ruins and the property.

He smoothed his fingers over the ring he’d taken from Hawke. It was one of the more simpler ones, but this one gave the wearer a heightened sense of awareness. This one helped him hide better, slink through the shadows easier. No doubt Hawke was feeling a little different if she decided to wear this every day.

She took him by surprise, and despite the description of her in the book he was taken aback by her height and strength. She was nearly equal to his own height, and she reminded him of a rogue and warrior fused together. She nearly split him wide open with the forceful swing of her wicked lance, not to mention the deepening, darkening black around his eye and cheek. His face hurt immensely after that punch and there was now a tiny scar at his cheekbone. It would be the reminder that he barely escaped the Champion of Kirkwall. She was certainly fierce.

“—and you know what the Black Fox did?!” Remi’s attention jerked to a loud and boisterous bear of a man who had to pause to slurp a drink from his tankard. He felt his skin crawl at yet another incorrect tale of his exploits.

That it’d been over fifty years since he’d lost himself and his companions in the haunted forests of Arlathan was still mind boggling. And here he was thirty-eight as the day he’d left. He couldn’t help but think his younger self would be thrilled by the notoriety he’d gained. Yet, it only made him cringe as the man bellowed out the ending of that particular tale. Something about foiling the wedding of a Nevarran princess and a nasty Tevinter slaver. That was news to him.

He had enough of their shamelessness, gathering his things to head upstairs. He felt an ache, however, that at one point it would’ve been him laughing hysterically as Bolek loudly told a story for all the tavern patrons to hear.

Once back inside his room he cleaned himself up to settle into bed, but found a candle before he flopped into the slight comfort. He had a sudden urge to lose himself in someone else’s story and decided to continue reading the Tale of the Champion despite already having dealt with her. At least he could lose himself within another story that was surely mostly fabricated, yet he couldn’t help but relate to the hardships written on the page. This Varric Tethras certainly had a way with words.

~~

“Oh, darling, I was not expecting to see you again,” Vivienne greeted them as she met them in her parlor. “It is good to see you.”

“You as well, Madame de Fer. Your college is doing well from what I’ve heard,” Hawke said as she ushered Varric and her to sit. A young woman poured some tea for them, and she tried to not make a face about it. Formal settings still were not her strong suit, and she was likely to break the delicate little cup by merely holding it.

“You’ve noticed,” she grinned. “Despite the lengthy hardships it took getting it up and running, we’ve been adjusting magnificently.”

“I think my sister would’ve loved it. A safe place to learn and grow…” she trailed off not meaning to bring something like that up. Vivienne reached for her hand, grasping for a moment, and offered a sympathetic smile.

“We do this for those we lost. Their memory lives on, my dear.”

She liked Vivienne. Sure she was a snob of the highest Orlesian caliber, but who wasn’t a snob in their own right? Vivienne worked her ass off for her positions, and though Hawke may not have agreed with circles and her line of thinking when she’d met her, she understood what she really wanted. A safe place for mages to _learn_ and _nurture_ their magic. Without fear, and with real protection. She did quite well with all of her connections.

“So it seems you two have an interest in those silly Black Fox tales, yes?”

“I wouldn’t care about finding the rings if I didn’t have some bastard break into my home, poison me, and steal the ring I possessed.”

“Fascinating. You were robbed by a fan I take it?” Vivienne’s laugh sounded through the study and Hawke nodded.

“I believe so.”

“And, Varric darling, what brings you here? Shouldn’t you be in Kirkwall, or Tevinter? Somewhere other than Orlais?”

“Well, I had some business to attend to and I’m kind of curious about Hawke’s latest crusade.” When silence blossomed amongst the three of them he put his hands up in the air. “Alright, alright, I wanted to get away from Kirkwall for a bit so sue me. But I really do need to speak with some people so I figured why not?”

“I see. How is our dear Lady Lavellan? I trust you’re taking care of her?”

Varric chuckled, “Hahya’s buried herself in work. An old friend of Leliana’s, Zevran, has been looking out for her. Their leads on Chuckles have dried up though. When Skyhold was deemed safe again she and a few others joined her there to regroup. I’ll probably stop by on my way back.”

“Oh, my dear, if you do please make sure to see me before then. I have some things I’d love for her to have.”

“Will do, Iron Lady. Oh, that reminds me I’ve got a book for you, hot from the pen.”

Vivienne grinned as Varric fished out the book he’d been writing. He’d finally finished that trilogy he mentioned he was working on and Hawke couldn’t help but chuckle. It was nice to see innocent exchanges like this. Friends chatting about silly things and not about the world falling apart. It didn’t happen so often. She was well-versed in the world falling apart at a near constant rate.

She couldn’t help feeling impatient, however. It was nice to slow down the journey, but she needed information.

“I see that look upon your brow, my dear. Fret not, for I have something to show you.” She got up and ushered for them to follow. She led them down a lengthy hallway, her gown billowing behind her. “You may not be aware of this but my Bastien was mentored by Lord Remi Vascal.”

“You’re shitting me?” Varric laughed.

“He had a bit of a wild streak in his youth. He spoke fondly of Lord Vascal, and he was like an older brother to him. Bastien left that life behind with the death of his sister.” She swiftly turned down another hall, making her way to an elaborately decorated door. They went inside and Hawke went rigid. Vivienne made for the desk in the study, but her eyes were glued on the painting of two young men on the far wall.

“My dear, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have.” Despite the mask he wore she could see the shape of his nose, saw the freckles that escaped from the mask’s concealment. The shape of his eyes, his face, his lips were unmistakable in that painting. “That’s the man who took the ring.”

“Pardon?” Vivienne closed a drawer as she came to stand by her side. “That’s impossible, darling. That’s Bastien and the other man _is_ Lord Vascal. One of the last paintings of him before he left the game for his own life of debauchery and chaos. Before his parents were murdered.”

Hawke shook her head, “I’m positive. He wore a mask, but his eyes. I would recognize the shape of those eyes, his nose, the freckles even. I am positive that is the man who robbed me.”

“Come on, Hawke, it’s been decades since the man disappeared. He’d be what… almost ninety? Even if he _was_ alive he’d be _old_.”

“Did he ever have children then? That’d be the only other logical explanation. A grandchild perhaps?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Remi Vascal was an only child, and there was scarcely any extended family that I could recall. It was always assumed that Remi died in the fire that killed his parents. They realized it was him when he was imprisoned; the word only came to light upon his escape. Bastien was in tatters over it. He would’ve helped him had he known. After that is when his exploits left Orlais and spread to Nevarra, Tevinter, Antiva, and so on. If he had children I’m sure a tale would tell, but alas, my dear, there were no such rumors.”

She shook her head, “He must be his grandson. Unless…”

“Ah, don’t say it, Hawke.”

“We laugh, Varric, but you came upon _ancient_ elves at the Temple of Mythal who’d awoken from a slumber. And Solas is alive. As well as Mythal. What if the Black Fox really did find Arlathan? What if the tale didn’t end, but was suspended?”

Varric laughed, hands on his hips as he shook his head. “Well… shit. We have seen crazier things.”

“I mean one or two things spring to mind, but yes,” she said sarcastically.

“Well, if he really is the real Remi Vascal, do bring him by. I’d love to make his acquaintance as long as he does not steal anything.”

“Afraid your wealth might be distributed amongst the masses, Iron Lady?”

Vivienne chuckled, “you wound me, darling,” she smirked his way. “Ahem, now if we can turn our attention away from this new information, I would inform you of what we came to this room for.” She held up a small box lined with red velvet, and an interesting pattern inlaid on top. Little jewels dotted its surface. She tapped the top and a tiny puff of smoke exuded from it. She whispered a few more things and finally she opened it. A ring lay inside.

“Lady Mantillon always boasted of having several of the Black Fox’s rings and gave them out as rewards. Naturally Bastien wanted one, but he didn’t exactly earn her favor to receive it. He used his skills to acquire it. It was a very dear treasure for him.”

Hawke nodded, “Does anyone know you have one?”

“They shouldn’t. Lady Mantillon surely would’ve sent an assassin his way for doing so. The ring never came up. It was safe with Bastien, and I am the only one he told his secret to.” She traced her finger over the seal, whispered words and sealed the box back up. She messed with a hidden bottom in one of the drawers, sealed it up as well, and closed it. “Should it turn out that this thief be the real article, I would love to meet with him. For now, it is our secret.”

“Good, keep it that way. Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“Grand Duke Gaspard and Empress Celene own one, and possibly a ring or two still lie with Lady Mantillon’s family. Other than that, my dear, I have no more information on the treasure. There is a gala in a few nights, however, at the Winter Palace.”

“Good grief, for what,” Varric asked.

“Darling, Celene must display her power over Gaspard whenever she can. Rumor is that the Grand Duke is plotting something. Again. What better way to sniff it out then another Ball like the one our dear Inquisitor Lavellan foiled.”

Varric let out a groan. “The world is turning to shit and you Orlesians still can’t stop fighting amongst yourselves.” Vivienne laughed.

“Really though, I’m getting strong vibes of Ferelden ten years ago when Loghain had to start his shit in the middle of a blight.”

“Still not very broken up about him being sucked into the fade huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” She smiled sweetly down at him. She saw firsthand Loghain’s betrayal. People could try to rationalize his actions, but she knew what really happened. When Ohahn Cousland told her what she did she couldn’t help but revel in the twisted pleasure of it. Loghain was conscripted, turned to a Grey Warden, and she refused to allow him to be present atop Fort Drakon. She knocked him out before the fighting, wouldn’t allow him even a sliver of a chance to regain glory against the archdemon and absolve himself of his sins. Though she did give him a bit of credit. He sounded remorseful enough when Stroud advised her to travel with him.

“I can get you into the ball, darling. You two shall be my guests of honor.”

“Well, maybe not honor,” Hawke and Varric echoed the same sentiment and Vivienne began to laugh once more.

“Delightful.”


	4. Chapter 4

Remi was lost in his thoughts; only the quiet clops of his horse’s hooves as it made its way down the cobblestone path reached his ears. It was surreal really, to be on this pathway that cut through the forest. He always took the back way, the locked gate could never keep him in, and it certainly couldn’t keep him out. It was rusted over these days, and he wasn’t surprised. What _did_ surprise him was when he finally looked up and focused.

The estate sat at the top of the hill overlooking the valley into the town down below. His lips parted, and he found himself wondering if he was dreaming in the fade. How? The house had burnt down, barely the bones had been left when it finally snuffed itself out.

Yet it stood there, pristine, as beautiful as it did when he was a young man gleefully looking back upon it as he snuck out of its confines under the moons’ pale light. He could hardly believe it still, but it was staring him in the face. There were no recent tracks though, no life seemed to dwell within it. No candles in the windows nor horses in the stable he just deposited his own at.

He picked the lock at the back door and entered. The silence was deafening. He lit a candle he found and even through the dimness he couldn’t believe how the kitchen looked just as he remembered. He spent a lot of time here, fondly remembering how the ladies doted on him, sneaking him bread before suppertime.

He ventured out of the kitchen to the dining hall, running his fingers across the sleek mahogany of the table. No line of dust formed from his touch. Someone took care of this place still.

He continued to wander in awe unable to believe that this place was nearly identical to the original save for furniture and no personal effects of his family. Those were all lost in the fire, he took what few things he could salvage, but there really was nothing. The oil they set fire saw to the obliteration.

That night came to him bitterly, and he was savagely reminded that he wasn’t here and therefore he could not help them. Any of them. His parents, the help. All of them gone. If he was here, then maybe he could have… He shook his head, made his way up the staircase and someone went through pain to reconstruct these as they were.

The candlelight flickered off the paintings in the hallway, landscapes of faraway lands, all of the things that inspired his lust for adventure. These were close to the originals that used to line the walls. He opened a door to one room, the room where his father used to scribble at paperwork late in the evening hours.

The moons’ light shone through the curtainless window as he took a turn about the room. He looked up and stopped when he saw the painting on the wall. A shadow of his former self. Barely twenty, a year before the fire with a younger Bastien de Ghislain. One of the last paintings his mother forced him to sit through. He thought it died in the fire, but remembered that an additional one was commissioned for the de Ghislains.

He felt like a ghost staring at himself, half-wondering if part of him died with the fire. Perhaps the other part died when he’d been tortured. If neither of those took his soul, then certainly the forest of Arlathan had.

He took in a breath and sat behind the desk, absentmindedly opening a drawer and found a letter. With his name on it. Settled underneath the old sleek black mask with gold filigree detail he used to wear as the Black Fox. Truly he must be stuck in the fade and he looked around to see if he could notice anything, something, some sort of ripple that would indicate he was dreaming and within the clutches of some wicked demon of sorrow.

He picked up the mask and set it upon the desktop; the letter stayed in his hands. He turned it over to see the wax seal of the de Ghislains was stamped on the back. Should he open it? He felt like an imposter, a terrible farce of his old self. What could Bastien possibly want to leave for him to find? Then he looked up and caught sight of the painting. It was clear this was all Bastien. Perhaps he still had one person left who knew him before?

He slid his finger under the flap, popping open the wax seal and pulled out a neatly written letter on the finest of parchment.

_My dear friend. My brother. I must offer you my sympathies. Had I known that you were alive I would have seen to your rescue myself. Before I could find you again you were already gone, and the rumors of your disappearance spread throughout Orlais. You and your companions were last seen heading to find the lost elven city of Arlathan. Of course you would; an adventure of that magnitude would be most enticing._

_I always hoped throughout the years that someday you would emerge from those forests, unharmed, and that you would find your way home again. When my sister died, I took over the estate. Before that I had inadvertently followed in your wild footsteps. Mother would have been livid. You certainly had everyone fooled that you were the proper son._

_I tried to remember every detail of this place, and with the help of others we had your home rebuilt. It felt a shame to let the legacy of your wonderful family be lost in the ashes. The Vascals were giving, and certainly put the rest of Orlais’s nobility to shame. Your father’s and mother’s refusal to play the game I’m sure had something to do with their deaths. I’m sure you knew that._

_I will never lose hope that someday you will come home again. The deed is still in your name. Should you claim it, you will need to find my son, Laurent. Maker, help him he outlive the game._

_I never tired of hearing about your exploits even if most were fabricated. You were truly a better man, a true lord. May we meet again someday, my brother._

_~~Bastien de Ghislain_

Remi wiped his hand over his mouth. He felt regret well within him. He should have tried to reach out, but he already knew that Bastien had entered back into that life, into the game. His presence would’ve only hindered the fragile reputation he already had. He had to do much to repair his reputation, and being friends with the fallen Lord Remi Vascal, the Black Fox, would not have helped.

There was another piece of parchment behind the first. The handwriting was shaky, but still Bastien’s and his heart sank as he read this one. _I may not have much longer to live_. It was dated roughly four years ago. He felt tears sting at his eyes as he leaned back in the chair. They fell down his freckled cheeks as he swiped them away with scarred fingers.

The only person he could possibly have gone to, and he was probably dead and long passed. He didn’t have any hope or faith in that last letter. It was a farewell, one he felt to his bones.

He stared out the window until the faint glimmer of dawn was close to peeking above the horizon as the candle finally snuffed itself out down to the quick. Wax flowed over onto the desk; most of it was already dry. In the distance he could hear the loud clops of hooves and the wheels of a carriage.

He folded up the letters, tucked them into his jacket, put the mask in his pack, and left the house behind. He was able to grab his horse from the back stable, the approaching caretaker still yet a ways away. He rode his horse along the lakeside, his hood falling back, wind breezing through his short, wavy hair.

For a moment he felt like a boy again, riding off defiantly from his lessons. The lake shimmered exactly the same as it did during dusk when he would ride along its banks, and once he was on the far side he stripped himself bare. He could see the house in the distance, the sun rising behind it, and he steeled himself before diving in to the cold water.

He tread water for a moment, slicking his hair back from his eyes. Taking a deep breath he dove down into its depths. It took a few tries, but finally he found the old log. His lungs burned for air, but he was determined to get it on this dive. Before anyone could chance to look across the lake and happen to spot his horse standing at the tree line. It would be his luck if some hawkeyed person could discern the shapes in the early morning hours, but again, it would be his luck.

He thrust his hand down into the muddy bed, fishing around until his fingers touched the hard surface of his prize. Gripping the handle he heaved it up, pushing himself quickly to the surface with a gasp as he pulled the box with him. He shivered in the cool air of the morning, taking the blanket from his saddlebag and dried himself off. He dressed himself again, tugging on his coat, trying to rid himself of the chill that soaked into his bones.

He heaved the moderately heavy chest the size of a bread box onto dry grass. The lock was stupidly easy for him to pick, but he never bet on anyone finding this anyway. He opened it, finding the little box that held the ring and slipped it onto his middle finger and pulled his glove over his hand. There were many fine jewels and jewelry within this box, and he transferred it to a bag that he put into another bag inside his pack.

Once he finished looting himself he shut the box and kicked it back into the lake, no longer needing it. He was back on his horse, taking one more long, or rather longing, look back at the estate. He would get it back, and he would finally usher his friends unto its halls to show them the splendor that he’d described so long ago as they start this new life.

He found it, a determination rising up within him as swift as the breeze billowed his coat behind him. He would do what the elf wanted, but Maker help him if he did anything to harm his friends.


	5. Chapter 5

It was awful. Absolutely dreadful. Yet she saw how Vivienne thrived at this party, and even Varric was holding his own. She opted for a fake name, hoping most of these nobles wouldn’t recognize her face. However, being at Varric’s side was certainly a giveaway. She didn’t care. This was bullshit, but she scanned the crowd behind the silly violet and gold mask that matched the silky violet, gold gown that Vivienne had acquired for her.

The thief would surely be here, and she would find him. Yet she was beginning to have some doubts. If he was smart he would make himself as invisible as possible. If no one remembered him then no one could point out they saw him sneaking about.

She sipped the wine in her glass, knowing she probably should be very careful. Who knew what was spiked or poisoned at an event like this, but Celene was smug, and she was with Vivienne who still held great favor. Besides, no friend of Varric would be harmed right; as famous and beloved as he was here. Who would write their next favorite novel?

She excused herself, making her rounds, denying a dance to a man who tried his luck. She was not interested in playing into their games, she only needed to find one man. He needn’t sneak off so soon, but he would have to plan his moves for after the ball, when Celene was alone and retiring to her room. If she treasured the ring as much as it was rumored then it was on her finger for all to see.

He wouldn’t be so bold to steal it from her finger, or would he? She was sitting comfortably atop her throne and watching the people dance, and quite visible for all to see. Or rather she was watching any prey or idiots that might be bold enough to try something.

She inwardly groaned. Fucking Orlesians. How Ferelden ever let them occupy them was beyond her, and she was almost embarrassed. Why Orlais wanted a shitty backwater country to begin with was also embarrassing in her opinion. She loved her home country, but Maker help it was it ever the laughing stock of Thedas. Perhaps not as bad as Kirkwall, though.

She felt a bit off as she slunk through the crowds. Ever since the Black Fox lookalike stole the ring from her, she realized that it really did have some sort of mystical affect. When she bought it she hadn’t realized how much lighter she felt, how much more attune she was to her opponent’s moves. She wondered with its delicate design who even made it? It seemed too intricate and ornate to be of Orlesian design. Perhaps it was elven?

She took nearly a gulp of wine this time, wanting more. She was honestly itching to get as drunk as she could just to wipe the scummy indulgence of this ball off her skin. Then her eyes caught something. The edge of a black mask lined with a shiny golden pattern. How brazen of him, she thought, to come to this party with the mask of a fox? Black fox at that.

There was no mistaking his build, she’d practically burned every detail about him into her mind. She could see the outline of rings beneath the black leather of his gloves. His outfit was black and gold to match his mask, his wavy hair neatly styled to one side. It was a far cry from the lackluster, unfitted outfit he wore before, and he’d seemingly upgraded his attire in the span of time she last saw him.

She could almost see him bristle as he finally turned his head fully in her direction. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her. He definitely recognized her. A smirk curled to her lips and he drank the rest of the wine in his glass before setting it on the tray of a passing servant. He excused himself from the men he was speaking with, and she waited as he made his way to her.

“Care to dance, milady?” He bowed his head, reaching his hand out to her and her smirk deepened.

“Delighted.” She placed her hand in his and he led her out to the dancefloor.

“Do you even know how to dance, Champion?”

She laughed as she placed her other hand upon his shoulder. “What do you think Bla—”

He cleared his throat. “This is not the time nor place.”

“Oh really? So you break into my estate, poison me, and steal from me, but now we must be civil as we’re in your court of play, hm?”

“You do not understand.”

“No, not quite. You took something important to me, and I want it back.”

She saw the deep swallow at his throat, she’d certainly rattled him. “I cannot do that.”

“And why is that?”

“I cannot tell you.”

She huffed as he continued to lead her around the dance floor. She’d done surprisingly well to only have stepped on his foot once so far. “So tell me,” she draped both of her arms over his shoulders, which landed both his hands at her hips as she knocked him off his rhythm, “are you related to _him_.”

“I do not catch your meaning.” He glanced aside.

“Please you don’t even want me to mutter the moniker. You’re quite lacking in the cunning wit that he was fabled to have. You’re a poor imitation.”

“I am indeed,” he agreed, but she found his response to be far too agreeable.

“I saw a painting. Either it’s you, or a grandchild. I’m more along the lines of the latter, but the former I could believe considering a few years ago ancient elves awoke from a slumber. Putting a few things together and—”

“Please, stop,” he said a bit roughly, and their dancing ceased. She played with a tuft of his hair behind his ear before she eased her finger under the nose of his mask, lifting it slightly.

“Maker, I hope that hurt. You can still see the bruise,” her smirk broadened again. He caught her hand in his, the furrow of his brow creased lines at his forehead. “Don’t think for a second I’m letting you out of my sight, Fox.”

She was about to walk away when he pulled her to himself. “Please, Noalaine, I beg of you. I need these rings to save my friends,” he whispered, and he shook his head in exasperation. “I would ask that you understand that. I would think you would know how it feels to drown in your own loathing.”

The playfulness left her. From her full first name leaving his lips when _no one_ but Carver, Sebastian, and Varric knew it, to the ending of his sentence. She swallowed hard. “How do you know? It’s not in the book. Neither _thing_.”

“One need only live it to know what _really_ lies behind the tale. As for your name… I was told it.”

She gripped his jacket. “By _whom_. If you laid a hand on Sebastian _or_ my brother—”

He shook his head. “I will not talk about this here. Could you help me? If the ring means that much to you then help me. Perhaps I can help you as well.”

He slipped away into the crowd and she was too winded to even go after him. “A dance, mi—” She shoved a man away from her who flopped onto the floor. In the most unladylike way, she gripped her dress in her fists as she went up the stairs.

She found Varric who’s laughter was fading away from his face as she approached. “We need to talk. Somewhere without prying ears.”

“Ah, shit what happened?”

“Is my name in your book,” she quietly pressed when they’d slipped away. “My full name?”

“Andraste’s tits, no, you know this.”

She nodded, “And Sebastian is alright?”

“Yes, as far as I know Choir Boy’s just fine. What’s the matter?”

“Who _else_ would know my name besides my brother?”

He shook his head, “What the fuck is this about?”

“ _Who else_ would know my name?” She pressed again and finally it dawned on him.

“Chuckles.”

“He’s working with him, for him, whatever, but he _knows_ where he is.”

“Where is he?”

She let out a huff, “I lost him, but he will not leave here without what he came here for. Think the Inquisition can still pull a favor? She does owe you one.”

He shrugged, “Maybe if Hahya were here, but who the fuck knows?” Varric was thinking, wheels turning. “Well, maybe if we save her from him we can ask for a boon?”

“He’s not going to try to kill her, that’s far too messy. He’s a thief Varric. We only need to outsmart him on his way out. But from the sounds of it, he may want my help.”

“Yeah, we could only be so fucking lucky.”

She glanced up and saw Celene out the corner of her eye speaking with a few ladies. Her hands were ungloved and she saw no rings adorning them. She nudged Varric. “Did you find out if she was wearing it?”

Varric nodded, “She was wearing several rings earlier.” He glanced over and studied her. “There aren’t any now. He’s already done it.”

“Black and gold outfit, matching fox mask.”

“Got it.”

They moved in opposite directions and she wandered around making sure to mask her anxiousness with calm. She eased around corners, finding herself outside. There weren’t many people out, the air was chilly at night. It was a little _too_ quiet around here, but before she could slip her hand into a pocket of her dress for her knife she felt arms pull her back into a hidden door and a hand over her mouth.

She was about to whip the knife on them, but his voice in her ear begged with her to listen. She pushed him back, flipping the dagger to grip it the length of her forearm.

“Why are you working for Solas?”

He had his hands up as she glanced about the small room. It seemed a safe spot from prying spies, she mused. She assumed it was some sort of magical safe area. No wonder the nobility wanted competent court mages these days.

“It’s not by choice. He has my friends; he wants my rings.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Hawke eyed him suspiciously.

He let out a sigh, “Because… I read your book. Then I read the Inquisition book. I am not some stupid rogue. I knew I needed to learn what I could about who that man was. When I reached the end of the Herald’s tale, I knew who exactly that elf was. Fen’harel, your Solas.”

“Who says I know anything about him.”

He scoffed, “I’m not a fool, Noa, you inferred it. Besides, your friendship with Master Tethras is quite obvious. As if someone like you wouldn’t be out there trying to stop someone like the Dread Wolf.”

She leaned back against the door. “So you’re really him then? You’re the _real life_ Black Fox?” He nodded. “Wow,” she snorted. “It would be my luck to be robbed by the fucking Black Fox. As if Corypheus wasn’t strange enough.”

“I’m at a loss. My only option is to find my rings and give him the stronghold they’re connected to. It had a mirror within, I know not what else he could need from it. I won’t let him have my friends.”

“Have you considered that he’s already done away with them?” She saw the twinge of hurt that caused him.

“I can’t—”

“You need to consider it. Do you not remember what happened to you?”

“I… It’s hard to recall. Arlathan’s forest are… It’s hard to explain, but they are not normal.”

“You can’t give him the rings.”

“I will not leave it to chance. I _refuse_ to act until I know they’re safe.”

“Then you need to remember everything.” It struck a chord she could see.

They snuck their way out, Varric eventually finding them. Once safely far from palace walls within a loud boisterous tavern dressed in normal clothes did they speak in a safe corner.

“How the fuck did you get the ring?”

Hawke glanced Remi’s way, who leaned back in his chair. He certainly looked exhausted, empty. She knew that look all too well. It found her often, stared right back at her in the mirror. She drank half the tankard of ale and was about to enjoy a bowl of stew.

“Sleight of hand,” he responded. Without his mask she could see his face though it was slightly shadowed by his hood. She could fully see the bruise beginning to wane around his eye and the forming scar at his cheekbone. He had a smattering of freckles across his face, and she could see why the legends talked about how charming he was. It really did tickle her silly that she was sitting in a tavern breaking bread with the Black Fox. She almost felt as giddy as her childhood self when she’d cling to his stories that her father told her at night.

Varric grinned, “Well then, the ultimate rogue he is. So he’s up there then? Is he _there_ all the time?”

“I do not know. They woke me up, he explained his demands, then he sent me through an eluvian that spat me out in a hidden ruin in the Planasene forest.”

“You’re lying,” Varric accused and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not. He wants the rings and my old stronghold in exchange for my friends’ lives. I led them to their fate, and I am responsible. I intend to save them.”

Varric let out a frustrated sigh. “You said there’s a mirror inside it? What’d you take that for?”

“I did not, it was already in there. The stronghold lies within an old elven ruin. It’s concealed by magic and these rings are the key. It needs all ten.”

They were quiet, and Hawke finally looked up from her half-eaten bowl of stew to come up for air. She watched the two of them, sour faced as she sometimes was. “Andraste’s tits, this table needs more drinks.”

Varric ignored her quip and leaned on the table; Remi gulped down some ale. “I don’t get it. Why are you telling us all of this? Is it some kind of test he tasked you with?”

“I read your books. I figure if this all goes to shit like it probably will then the only people who can probably do anything about it are you.”

“Well, shit,” Varric muttered. “So, what? You want our help now?”

Remi shrugged, “I want my friends back. If we can come to some mutual agreement then perhaps you can confront him. _After_ I know my friends are safe.”

Varric’s arms were crossed and he glanced over at Hawke. He raised his brow and she confusingly did the same back.

“What do you think?”

She looked to Remi, he didn’t seem like he had much hope in his eyes. “As long as we’re not being set up for betrayal then why not. The leads have dried up on the Wolf, and our companions are dying for a hunt. Might as well. We’re all going to die anyway right?”

Varric groaned at her fatalism, pushing her mug closer to her. “ _You_ need to drink more. On second thought, maybe not.”


	6. Chapter 6

Remi heard the door to the balcony open quietly. He hadn’t been able to sleep much, and he glanced over from his bed to see long legs disappearing up onto the roofline. He supposed Hawke couldn’t sleep either, and he looked to the other bed to confirm Varric was alone, loudly snoring. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, hearing light footsteps that finally came to a stop.

He got up, pulling on a coat over his sleep shirt and tucking his pants into his boots. He followed her onto the rooftop and found where she was sitting, staring up at the moons. There was a dreamy look in those silvery eyes. She drank quite a bit, and he couldn’t deny he’d consumed almost as much. It did look dreamy out here, he had to admit, and he came to sit beside her.

“I’m sorry for what I did in Kirkwall,” he said, and she playfully bumped her shoulder into his.

“It’s not every day a girl gets to meet her childhood hero,” she made light of it all and he couldn’t help the small smile that spread on his lips and the huff that left him.

“Please, do not make me more sick. I’ve heard enough about my supposed adventures in plenty of taverns already. Honestly it’s insulting how false they all are.”

She chuckled, softly, running her fingers through her long thick hair. “They always do get them wrong. So tell me a real one.”

His mind swam over the stories, some were a bit foggy, but others came easily. “The one about the Crows contract is true. However, despite the rather favorable light that tale spins, he almost got his mark. I was drunk, asleep, and the idiot tripped over his shoe laces of all things and woke me. I did not have the upper hand until that moment, and by all accounts I should have died. When he “fell” off the balcony, I suppose it spooked the other Crows lying in wait. No one else came that night. I guess it’s good when notoriety pays off.”

She laughed, a laugh that bared the long line of her neck. He pursed his lips and avoided the heated feeling it stirred. “How about you? Surely everything in Varric’s book is made up. Tell me a truth.”

She scoffed, her eyes flicking down and back up to his. “I wish. Most of it is true, though not as elaborate. Thank the Maker he made light of the sex, though I wish he hadn’t mentioned it at all.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“You and the Prince? That is a thing.”

“It was. In another lifetime it seems. Before everything went to the void and back again as described in the third act, we’d been drifting. I knew his sense of duty was eating away at him, his doubts. He needed to go back to Starkhaven and take his place.”

“You did not go with him? You shirked the chance to be a Princess?”

She laughed, placing her hand over her mouth to muffle it. “Maker please, _me_? No. They even wanted to make me the Viscountess of Kirkwall. Fucking fools the lot of them. Everything I touch is corrupted.” The smile on her lips faded.

“So… your family. All of that is true?”

She nodded, “Yes… All gone. All my fault.”

“Noa—”

“Don’t be nice,” she cut him off. “I chose the wrong way when we fled Lothering, and I chose for us to stay in Kirkwall after the blight ended for my own selfish reasons. My brother is all I have left, and I fear I’ve lost him too. I should have never let him go into the Deep Roads with me. But to soothe his ego I let him and he was infected. Now he’s poisoned and cursed with a slow and terrible death.” She looked up to the moons once again. “My mother was right. I failed them all.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re far too kind. I do not deserve it. I hope your mother was kind and not cruel,” she mumbled the last bit. She was kind. He was lucky that he only had good memories of her. “I hope your friends are alive; I really do. I apologize if it didn’t come across that way earlier.”

He shook his head, “I need to accept the possibility that you’re right. Even if it’s painful to do so…” Silence spanned between them for a bit, until a question sprang to his mind. “Why do you want the ring back? Why go through all this trouble?”

The little smile was back at her lips. He wanted to keep it there. “It’s far too silly to admit.”

“Nonsense. I want to know.”

“Alright, but I warned you. When I was a little girl my father used to tell me your stories. I’m sure in the notorious bullshitter ways of the Hawkes he made most of them up. My childhood, for the lack of a better word, was shitty. Father was an apostate and we often had to pick up and move when we thought templars were coming. So… as stupid as it may sound, your tales kept me believing that someday perhaps I could be out there on my own thrilling adventures with friends who cared about me. Someday maybe I could hop towns for more than just ruining my father’s simple farmer cover. Avoid the screams of blame from my mother.”

She looked at him, her silvery hues filled with a sorrowful longing. “But then you grow up. And you realize that the grand adventures you craved were a fantasy. Because the tavern tales never mention the heartbreak, the loss, the pain that’s really behind the journey. The secrets that only the adventurer knows. The reality comes crashing down rather quickly.”

He nodded, fiddling with the hem of his coat. “Indeed… It does.”

“I found your ring amongst the wares of a merchant. Even if they were lying that it once belonged to the famed Black Fox, I needed it. I found a sliver of hope. It brought back those nights that I spent listening to my father. When I thought all hope was lost, in a way you brought it back. At least your fame did.”

“In what world could you believe it a stupid thought, Noa?” He turned his attention back to her.

She shrugged, “Because as I said… with the grand adventures came the pain. And surely your stories must eat at you as mine do.”

“I think that is the part that bothers me most being back… How little people know of the truth… How much they think me the hero that I’m not.”

She leaned into his shoulder again, and, Maker, the comfort of that simple gesture was not lost on him. He ached for friendly touches, laughter amongst friends, and he realized that’s what was making him feel the most broken. He hadn’t dealt with what happened to him. It made him bitter, angry, and reckless. So reckless.

After his companions broke him out he was furious with Servana. A whole year to stew about it, caged like a feral animal, lashed like a beast. She had the nerve to show up and beg for forgiveness, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it.

It took him a long while to even recover from the wounds, but the mental ones remained open and bleeding. It didn’t make him more brutal, but it left his compassion with a bitter scar. It wasn’t so much about helping people any longer when he ventured up north, but some of the contracts he took left him feeling ill at ease thinking back on it.

It’s what made him fed up with his pathetic apathy. Why the thrill of finding the lost city of the ancient elves was palatable. Perhaps it would awaken his desire to adventure again. Despite Karolis’s quiet objection, that they should think it through more thoroughly, he, Clementis, and Bolek were still eager to forge ahead to find it.

The forest was still a fog on his mind, but his head ached a moment as the panicked shouts began to hit him. _You need to let go_. His brow furrowed, but as he tried hard to remember it seemed it slipped away that much faster.

He felt a bump at his shoulder and Hawke’s hand caught his arm. “Mm, sorry,” she muttered. “I dozed off.”

“Perhaps we should head back in,” he suggested.

She nodded, “Yes, maybe now Varric’s snoring won’t be so loud in my ear.” He laughed softly which took him by surprise.

“I can almost hear it from here.” His quip caused her to laugh and he felt warm again. He had to turn when the feeling took him by surprise, and he felt her hand grip the back of his coat as they carefully walked along the rooftop. He slid down first onto the balcony, and she hopped next faltering a moment before he braced her against himself.

“Sorry, still sleepy. And tipsy.” She held onto his shoulders for a moment longer, and the urge to bridge the gap took him by surprise. He shouldn’t, and the feeling left him, but not before he tucked a piece of her fringe behind her ear.

He slipped the ring off his right ring finger and took her hand in his. She looked confused as he slipped the ring back onto the thumb he’d plucked it from.

“An act of good faith,” he said, not realizing he was still holding her hand and smoothing his thumb along her fingers. “Keep it safe.” He slipped from her nearness, running a hand through his hair as he took in a breath. He glanced back and saw her staring after him returning the soft smile that spread on her lips.

“Good night, Remi,” her quiet voice reached him, and a flicker within him stirred; it surprised him. It felt good to hear his name from her, yet he also felt the sinking feeling that he didn’t deserve to feel his old self coming back to him. He would fight to push those intrusive thoughts away, knowing he had to do something to pull himself from the depths.

“Bonne nuit, Noa.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re really going to help us?” Hawke stirred as she began to wake up. It seemed both Varric and Remi had already awoken and were having a chat.

“If you are willing to help me then yes. I will help in whatever way I can,” Remi responded. “Though I’m unsure how. It’s quite difficult when it feels like he’s always watching.”

“Does he want you to check in and give a status report? I’m surprised he doesn’t have you give the rings to a runner to get back to him.”

She opened her eyes to watch them both at the small table on the far side of the room. Remi was lacing up his boots, and leaned back in the chair. “The rings are required to open the stronghold. It is to my understanding he has no idea where it is.”

“Yeah, about that, how’d _you_ come across this?”

Remi chuckled, “Lucky? Stupid, I suppose. I don’t think you’d believe me even if I told you.”

“Kid, there’s a lot of shit that I never thought I’d believe but these past fifteen years have been weird. A flock of nugs could sprout wings and fly across the sky and I wouldn’t even bat an eyelash.”

“Fair point. It was well into the adoption of the Black Fox moniker. A lord in Val Chevin, the one I took pride in harassing, heard about some ancient treasure within the depths of the Arbor Wilds. I followed, stole their useless maps, and eventually they came upon something dark that slaughtered them. I was frightened to say the least knowing I was quite out of my element.”

“I’ve been to Mythal’s temple in the Arbor Wilds. It was rough, but where we were at it didn’t seem so bad.”

“The Arbor is vast and deep. This part was dark, unsettling, and malicious. I was terrified that whatever cut them to pieces would find me, but there was something that pushed me onward. Eventually I came across an area that didn’t seem so terrible. There was a rock that seemed as if it was plucked straight from Satina and placed there in the middle of this clearing. I was surrounded by whispers, and I saw the faintest imprint of hands upon its surface.”

Varric began to chuckle, “You’re a good storyteller, Fox.”

“You said you would believe it if a flying nug flew before your eyes,” Remi smirked his way.

“Alright, you got me. Continue.”

“I placed my hands into the grooves and suddenly there were rings upon all my fingers, and for a brief moment the hill in the clearing I stood before turned into a stronghold that looked like it was crafted from moonstone. As soon as I took my hands away it was gone. I felt a hand upon my shoulder, yet nothing was there. I ran. Straight out of that forest as fast as I could. I felt as if something was protecting me as I left. The malevolence was gone, and I escaped unharmed.”

“So you just… left it? Weren’t even curious about what was inside it?”

He scoffed, “Of course I was curious. I went back a year later, found it again, and after I figured out the puzzle set the rings into the stone and watched it appear before my eyes all over again. I went inside and there were murals everywhere etched into the walls. Plenty of workstations and tools I’ve never seen before. Broken glass that glowed upon the marble floors and lanterns flickering with green light. I stood near the door most of the time, afraid that it would take me into whatever void it happened to be in. It felt uh… heavy inside.”

“So Chuckles wants this stronghold huh? Anything important within?”

“The only thing of note I remember was a rather large mirror. I assume it leads somewhere he wants. That seems to be what he is after, non?”

Hawke watched Varric nodding. “He said he had control over the system. Apparently they’re everywhere around Thedas. Guess that one leads to a one way place.”

Remi shrugged, “I had no idea. Honestly, I never used it much, but the rings became famous in their own right the more I fucked over the nobles. They thought I hid treasure there. I gave most of it away to the people that needed it.”

Varric laughed, and Hawke got up, stretching her limbs. “Morning, sunshine,” Varric called. “Ready to head out?”

“If we must,” she waved a hand, making her way to the washroom. She was braiding her hair over her shoulder when she returned to the room. “Where are we heading?”

“I think we owe the Iron Lady a visit.” Hawke looked between them, planting a hand upon her hip. She did get the sense she could trust Remi, but Vivienne was a good piece to have in their back pocket in case something went wrong.

“Is that wise?”

Remi chuckled, “Speaking in secret in the open?”

“Look, Fox, you’ve got to give us credit. You’ve been in contact with the Dread Wolf, for all we know this is part of your plan.”

“I see. You do not trust me?” He looked up at her from his seat and she saw disappointment in his eyes.

“I do,” she found herself saying.

“Oh, do you?” Varric eyed her and she held up her hand. “Well, now. That’s interesting.” He looked back to Remi.

“A peace offering. Is that not enough,” Remi asked.

“Alright, Fox, what do _you_ want to do then? What was your next move?”

“I heard some unsettling rumors at the ball. Regardless I believe the Montforts—” Both she and Varric groaned.

“Maker, please no, not the Montforts,” Hawke muttered and watched as Remi tried not to burst into laughter, but he finally started to chuckle.

“Once again I am not privy to something.”

“We’ve been to one of their estates before. Prosper’s dead. You think someone in their family has a ring?”

“Yes, I do. My old… companion who betrayed me to the Lord of Val Chevin. Servana de Montfort. I heard people at the ball saying that none of their family was in attendance. Some were claiming that strange things were happening at the estate, and no one’s come back who was sent to investigate.”

“Great,” Varric groaned.

“Until we figure that out, I suppose the Grand Duke is the next target. I did not think it wise to try to take it from him last night. He was too well watched with several soldiers around him.”

“Yeah, Gaspy’s trying to dethrone Celene again. I’m still pretty impressed that you were able to swipe it from her with so many people watching,” Varric laughed.

“I had a lot of practice stealing noble women’s rings off their fingers. I heard she was sharp; she must be losing her touch.”

“Overconfident is more like it. Most Orlesians are,” Hawke smirked and he chuckled.

“You could always fight him for it? I hear he’s into the old fashioned ways of dueling for honor,” Varric suggested.

Remi wrinkled his nose at that thought. “I’ve been asleep in a void for fifty years. I hardly think I’m up to par on the art of the duel.”

“Alright, so we think that the Montforts have one and we know the Grand Duke has one. Hawke’s sitting pretty with hers again. You have Celene’s and how many others?”

“Four now, five counting Hawke’s. I’m unaware of three. I do not know how he expects me to find them.”

“An associate of ours thinks the Mantillon family might have some. Lady Mantillon is dead, but she apparently liked giving them out as rewards for loyalty or some shit. That’s who gave Celene and Gaspard theirs. I’m willing to believe they’ve got some.”

Remi let out a sigh, “Well, I’m still somewhat decent at sneaking about. I could break in, pay some servants off.”

Varric bobbed his head back and forth, “Mm could work? Can’t hurt to try, I suppose.”

There was a knock at the door and Hawke instinctively reached for the knife at the back of her belt. She noticed Remi doing the same. Varric let out a chuckle when they heard a voice from the other side asking for “master Tethras.”

He went to the door and opened it, and they saw a messenger bow as he gave him a letter. “Letter for you sir, good day.” Varric offered him a coin and he thanked him, making his leave.

“It’s from Viv. She wants us to meet with her back in Val Royeaux. With our new friend.”

Remi’s brow quirked, “how does she know?”

Varric waved a hand, “Ah… She’s very well connected.”

~~

Remi felt a little uneasy about heading to Val Royeaux to meet their friend, but if he was going to ask for their trust then he would need to do the same. It took a little time to travel there, but soon they were heading down the streets. He remarked how it looked much the same; he’d been here quite a bit as a child, but since it was considered the holy city he tried not to be bad when he was older.

It wasn’t long before they were ushered into a home and an elegant, yet powerful woman soon greeted them.

“Darlings, quite a show you put on at the gala. There were plenty of whispers about what the two of you were scrambling about for. Then all of a sudden the Empress was paler than she already is, and she was ushered away heavily guarded.” She turned to Remi and smirked. “I suppose that was your doing?”

“Whatever do you mean, Madame…?”

“Come now, my dear, my friends have already informed me of your mission. Who do you think got them into the ball? Vivienne, by the way, is just fine. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You’re right, Hawke, he looks very much like the painting, except older.” He stilled at the comment. “So have we figured it out yet? Cousin? Nephew? Grandson?”

“Nah, Madame de Fer. We believe we’re looking at the genuine article here.”

“Fascinating.”

“Excusez-moi, Lady Vivienne, but what painting?”

She waved for them to follow and after a few turns down elaborately decorated hallways she brought them into a room. “The painting of you and my darling Bastien.”

His lips parted. “I don’t understand? There should only be one? The other burned…”

“To my knowledge, Bastien was working on having the Vascal estate restored and had another painting replicated from this one.” She opened a door and pulled out a thin leather bound book. “And he would want you to have this. Although may I suggest you claim being your grandson rather than yourself? These nobles will never accept the truth, my dear. I’m sorry to say, your name doesn’t exactly hold much favor either.”

He took the book into his hands, opening it. It was the deed to his family estate. “You would give this to me?”

“Bastien spoke of you often. He never gave up hope that someday you would return, or that if you had family they had something to claim.” She pointed to the painting. “It’s clear who you are. If my friends trust you, then I do as well. You should see it, darling, it’s quite magnificent.”

He nodded, “I have.”

“Marvelous. And was it…?”

“Yes, Madame. It was like it was before the fire.”

“I’m glad.” She pressed her palm to his cheek before she walked past him to the desk. She was the picture of elegance as she did so. “I wasn’t planning to give this to you yet, but I shall. Use it wisely against our old companion. We never saw eye to eye, but we found a mutual respect. Use caution when you come across him again.” She pulled out a little box and he watched her fiddle with it using magic.

She pulled a ring from her enchanted box and gave it to him. He could scarcely believe how quickly this was all falling into place. “Trust me when I say this, my dear, if you should decide to betray my friends, Solas will be the least of your worries.”


	8. Chapter 8

They’d decided on a course of action, and Hawke accompanied Remi to his estate just west of Val Chevin. Madame de Fer sorted things out with the caretakers of the property, and he told her he’d like the place to himself for a while. Varric had some things to take care of in Val Royeaux so it was just the two of them.

It was daylight this time as the sun shone through the windows giving him a better look at the halls. Hawke followed quietly behind him, until he didn’t realize that she had stopped. He assumed she wanted to give him privacy as he reminisced.

He found his old room, though he supposed he could take the larger that was his parents. It didn’t feel right though. He was barely twenty when he lost this place. Any of those strange feelings shouldn’t matter at this point, should they?

He sat at the window seat and looked out upon the lake. He never thought he’d see this view again. The lake shone like stars as the sun drenched it with its light.

“It’s a nice home. Somehow not so… snobbish as I imagined.” He heard Hawke’s chuckle at the threshold and he did the same as he glanced her way.

“My parents were terribly unseasoned with the game. They wanted nothing to do with it. My father came into his fortune by way of being business savvy; a trait passed down by previous generations till the wealth slowly built. He had many favors owed, and was made a Lord. Always humble though.”

“They sounded lovely.”

He smiled, “They had snobbish ways though. Put me in whatever lesson they could throw me into. I was unruly though, I shirked all of it, though some things stuck… You have no room to talk,” he jabbed.

“What does that mean?” She started to laugh as she leaned against the door jamb.

“Your estate was nothing to scoff at. Mine is not much bigger.”

“Ah,” she shifted, hands landing at her hips. “My mother’s family was well off. She threw that life away when she fell for the bad boy apostate. They fled Kirkwall to Ferelden, where my father was from, and had me there. When the blight hit my mother suggested we go to Kirkwall for safety.” He watched the sadness seep back into her eyes. “I should’ve put my foot down, but my siblings agreed, and we didn’t have much choice. Or time. Ferelden was too dangerous to stay in.

“So to Kirkwall we went, and to my mother’s disappointment her brother hid the will and squandered the family fortune. So Carver and I broke into the house which was full of bandits and took it back. However, we still needed to petition the Viscount to allow us to reclaim it which… brought me to Varric’s brother’s Deep Roads Expedition. Which… was a bad idea all around.” She waved her hand, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He shook his head. “It helps to talk about it.” He found himself hypocritically doling out that advice, but he did it anyway. “I don’t mind listening.”

“Let’s just say, I’ve made a lot of mistakes. And in trying to fix those mistakes I’ve made more mistakes. I’m just… tired. It’d be nice for something to go right for a change.”

“I know how you feel. I dug myself deeper and deeper… Still seem to be doing it.”

It was quiet for a moment, and his eyes were back to gazing out the window. “Perhaps we’ll finally get this right? I was never one for optimism, but I hear it’s helpful.”

He chuckled, “Yes… Perhaps.”

~~

They had discussed their plan to head up to Montfort and find the family estate. Remi had mentioned he didn’t like the rumors that something was wrong, and Hawke had to agree. Heading into the unknown wasn’t a favorable course of action. However, they planned to find a good view and see if they could assess what exactly was amiss.

As they got closer though Hawke began to feel unsettled, and when Remi was sure they were close to the estate they found a clearing to tether their horses to the trees.

“I don’t like this,” Hawke told him and he nodded. “There’s something off about the forest around here. It reminds me of the fade.”

“Yes, it’s very unsettling,” he agreed. He was about to say something else when a loud high pitched wail echoed through the forest causing both of them to jump. She unstrapped her lance and they both quickly made for the tree line.

They could see the house in the distance, behind the barrier wall, and it was large. Hawke noticed some windows were broken, and there was a spattering of blood on various parts of its white walled exterior. They needed a better look, however, since the stone wall was high and blocked the view.

She set her pack and lance down on the ground at the base of a tree and began to climb it while Remi hung back. The higher she got it seemed like the darker it became. It was strange, and she felt strange as well. She swallowed the feeling, ignoring it. She’d dealt with spirits in the fade before, she knew how to combat them.

The wail reached her ears again and she was finally high enough to see into the gardens. A woman’s hunched form was clutching branches so tightly there was a river of blood dripping from her clenched fists down to the ground. The rose bushes looked wicked, and the woman began to pull at more of their stems.

“Maker, what are you doing,” she muttered to herself. The woman stilled and Hawke went rigid. There was no way she heard her right? She was still quite a distance from the house. The woman turned her head in her direction and she could see the blood marks scaling down her face over her eyes, down her neck. It was as if she took her fingers and dragged them over her own skin. She wasn’t looking up, and her eyes were also closed.

She screamed again, a heart wrenching sob. “ _Why did I leave him_ ,” she wailed, and Hawke felt it dig deep for some reason. It made her think of Sebastian, the unvoiced plea in his eyes. He wouldn’t say it out loud; he wanted her to go with him to Starkhaven, but she couldn’t. There was no place for her there, and he knew deep down she was right. It was why he didn’t ask. She thought she’d made peace with it all, it’d been five years, but the guilt of that situation was bubbling up.

She took a deep breath. No. Whatever evil was here was what was trying to crawl into her head, and she refused to allow it. Like when Fear was trying to catch her off guard when they’d been trapped physically in the fade.

The woman ran straight into the rose bushes, clutching a white rose in her hand, staining it with the blood in her palms. “ _He loved these, he loved these_ ,” she repeated over and over, and Hawke shuddered.

She looked back up at the house; a figure standing in one of the windows stared straight at her and she gasped as if it struck her which caused her to lose her footing and slip from the branch. She grabbed at what she could, but it slipped from her hands, until she crashed into another branch at her waist. She grunted, not able to hang on, until she smashed through the lesser branches below and landed against something solid but soft with a thud.

“Fuck,” she breathed, clutching her side, then realized Remi had tried to brace her fall. “Are you alright?”

He groaned, “Yes, are you?”

“I think so…” She couldn’t get that figure’s malevolent appearance out of her mind. Its face was warped, twisted, eyes a piercing red. The teeth sharp as it smiled her way. “I think they’ve got a demon problem.” She twisted in his hold to look down at him on the ground. Neither were in much of a hurry to move. It came to her mind the first night they met, how both of them groused about being too old for this shit.

“Demons are not my specialty,” he grunted. “We should go. We probably need an experienced mage—”

A malicious laugh echoed around them; in the blink of an eye she was no longer in the forest, but a room that seemed to seep with sorrow. Hawke felt panic begin to grip at her mind.

“No,” she muttered, shutting her eyes as the room began to change.

“Noa?” She heard Remi’s voice, but he was no longer there as she pushed herself with her feet back towards the wall.

She didn’t want to see the things it was trying to make her see, and she knew that she had to fight the memories. Her chest and back began to ache where her scars were. The gnarled mark was a constant reminder of the Arishok’s blade that pierced straight through her chest.

_You let me die_ , a voice echoed around her, and the tears were falling down her cheeks. _How could you let me die?_ She put her hands on her ears as she cried, pain gripping her heart. She didn’t want to relive this, but as much as she tried to resist it, she was alone now in a void.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a little horror content. Kind of like any weird, horrific demon setting you come upon in DAO or DA2.

“Noa?!” Remi called, panic rising in his chest until he realized he shouldn’t draw attention to himself. It was too late though, he’d already been shouting. He was alone in the forest now, and despite his better judgement he tucked Noa’s things back with the horses and began to run around the property.

He knew he should head back. He shouldn’t go into that house alone so ill-prepared, but he refused to leave her to be a demon’s plaything. He stopped suddenly when a wicked voice reached his ears.

_If you want her back, you’ll come inside, Black Fox._

“Va te faire foutre,” he spat, hearing an ominous laugh.

_I’ll be waiting_.

He ran his hand through his hair, finally realizing he needed a better plan than to simply run in there unprepared. A bow and some knives weren’t going to do much. He’d conveniently left his demon repellant poisons back at the estate.

He felt something at his shoulder and nearly jumped out his skin as he turned to find nothing there. It felt like the same presence so long ago when he found the rings. Did he have a spirit following him? Is that why he felt like he was being watched since he woke?

_Ara ma ghilana,_ he heard a pleasant voice whisper, _I will guide you_. It became clear in his mind. That voice sounded familiar. It sounded safe. _I will protect you_.

He continued onward till he found the gate, picking the lock then pushed it open. He saw something out the corner of his eye, and a shadow scurried around the corner of the estate. A shudder ran down his spine, but he knew he had to go in there. What kind of twisted shit were Servana’s kin dabbling in?

He pressed forward, trying to keep his senses aware of any threats, but whatever shuffling people he saw quickly ran away from him, as if they were afraid of him being there. He pushed open the doors and the smell alone made him want to retch. He swallowed hard, peering into the pitch blackness. Even the dimming sunlight outside couldn’t pierce whatever void he was now standing before.

“Where is she,” he asked the spirit, but she was silent. He took a step, suddenly being pulled inside as if a gust of wind thrust upon his back. The door slammed behind him, and he tumbled until he hit something; the arrows in his quiver rattled at the force of his stop. He felt around; he was at the bottom of a staircase.

He tried to remember; this was Servana’s family home, yet the more he thought, the more he realized he’d only been here once as a boy. Servana hadn’t even been born yet, and after a heated discussion, Remi’s father wanted nothing to do with them.

He met her when he was in his prime as the Black Fox. They’d come across her when they were in Val Royeaux. She was pretty, their eyes catching, and he realized she was a mage shackled to the circle. Somehow she’d escaped, and Remi remembered being impressed. She joined their group; he even broke into the circle one day to steal her phylactery and destroyed it.

They were lovers yes, but neither of them ever established what they were. Perhaps he should’ve been more honest with his feelings, but he still retained that wild youth. He didn’t want to be tethered to _one_ lover. He was stupid; he broke her heart. She never said as much, but despite the anger he still held at her over her betrayal he had to admit that he’d betrayed her long before that.

_Yes, you broke her heart_ , the voice echoed around him, then growled in anger. He felt something suddenly vault away from him. _Why can’t I touch you?_ Its confusion filled the air. The spirit with him really was protecting him. _I will fill you with the despair you deserve!_ The demon shouted angrily, and he caught its red eyes across the room looking straight at him.

He grabbed the railing of the stairs, hurriedly making his way up onto the second landing. He still couldn’t see anything, but he needed to get away from those eyes. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, as he pulled out his bow, and loosed it towards the shadowy creature that shimmered in the air. It pierced its inhuman flesh, and he heard a loud growl until he heard Noa’s shout. Through the darkness, he could make out the hole in the demon stitching itself back together.

_Your friend has so much delicious sorrow to feed on_. It taunted him, and he ran down the landing until he hit the railing nearly sending himself over it. He tried to take back the wind that was stolen from his lungs and pull himself together.

He stopped for a moment to think. He didn’t feel the malevolent presence on him and he pulled his glove off his hand. ‘You idiot,’ he inwardly berated himself. He brushed his finger over one of his rings, and a dim light began to spread.

His heart beat a little faster as he could see some things, and it was plenty that he wished he could now unsee. Body parts were strewn about the floor below. Blood was everywhere, as well as a black ichor smeared about. The house almost pulsed with evil. Pods of black veined pouches lined corners and the ceiling; some with pops of red shining within them.

Where this place was once gilded and opulent, it was now a cesspit of evil. “Merde,” he cursed. “Noa!” He called out for her. He didn’t care; the demon already knew he was here, and hopefully it wouldn’t be able to touch him. He had to find her first. He had to knock her from whatever demented delusion it put her under.

He continued to run until he found a hallway. The demon was angrily following him at a distance, but he felt a barrier surrounding him. He didn’t want to harm the demon, however, since it would only harm her more.

“Don’t let it touch you!” He heard her shout, and he hurriedly turned another corner. He could see red shards coming up from the floor forming small crystals. It glowed. He read the description of red lyrium in Varric’s book, and he hoped that this wasn’t it.

There was a door though, one he knew was probably where he needed to go. The crystals lined the jamb, pulsing red. He rubbed his finger on another ring, held up his hand, and a blast of energy shattered the crystals to pieces. Their glow dimmed, and he kicked down the door.

He rushed inside; Noa was sitting on the floor with her back pressed to the wall. Her eyes were shut, hands on her ears. He crouched in front of her, trusting the spirit to hold the demon at bay. He placed his palms to her damp cheeks cradling her head in his hands.

“Noa, listen to me, I’m here. It’s Remi. You need to fight it. It’s not real.”

“It’s all my fault,” she moaned in pain, her hand pressed against her chest. Her shirt was gapped open and he could see a garish scar between her breasts. He didn’t recall reading about a wound like that in her book.

“Listen to me, Noa. None of it is your fault,” his voice wavered as he swallowed down the guilt of his own past. “We cannot control what happens in other peoples’ lives.” He desperately tried to get through to her. “Evil happens, and it’s not something we can control. Your family loved you. You know they loved you. Your father would not want you to blame yourself!”

She sobbed, “I’m sorry, I let them die.”

“Noa, come back, come back! Look at me,” he shouted. Her eyes opened and he ached at the pain he saw within them.

“You don’t believe what you say…” Her lip trembled.

He was frustrated; how could he convince her when he couldn’t even convince himself? “Then we’ll work on it; together,” He reasoned. “But you have to come back. You have to ignore this bastard! Please. We’ll do it together. Just come back; don’t let it take you.”

She gasped, a deep groan leaving her. “You fucking demon bastard!” She finally shouted.

“Maker, thank you,” he breathed. “Noa?”

She grabbed his shoulder. “I’m here, I’m here,” she breathed in. “It smells putrid in here.”

He chuckled a moment, forgetting for a second that they were still very much in danger. “We have to go.”

“No, I have a demon I need to kill,” she growled. She looked down at her chest then back at him raising a brow.

“I did not do that.” He put his hands up, and she buttoned her jacket over her ripped shirt. He helped her stand and she braced herself against the wall placing her hand on her forehead.

“Maker’s breath, my head.” She steadied her breathing. “I’m fine, I’ve got this.” He watched her pull the long danger from its sheath at her thigh. “How did you manage to keep from its grip?”

“Apparently a spirit is following me.”

“Ah, convenient.” It was quiet outside the door, perhaps the demon was searching for another victim. “We need to find the source of the manifestation. There could be a mage here that let it in.” He nodded, heading out the door first. “By the way, demon of despair? Do not recommend. You’re lucky.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Where are we in relation to the back of the house,” she asked.

“Ah, I’m not sure, if we follow this hallway I think it’ll lead to the back rooms.”

“When I climbed the tree I saw some nasty monster at the window. That’s why I fell from it. Perhaps whatever is manifesting it is in that room.”

He nodded, and he guided them down the hallway. They heard a muffled scream from outside.

“The woman in the garden out back,” she said quietly.

They carried on, and he felt the presence of the spirit guiding him forward. They saw windows and moved towards them, finding one without the glass. They looked outside and there was a woman lying on the ground, claw marks gashing through her abdomen. The demon looked up and they quickly backed away as it growled.

“Go,” Noa told him, “go to the room.”

“What about—”

“I’ll be fine. I can’t explain it but I think I’m okay.”

_I’m with her_. He heard the voice whisper and he rushed towards the door. He tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge, so he backed up and slammed his boot into it. It splintered as it flung open, and suddenly he was sucked inside. He heard Noa calling out for him, but he stumbled within as the door quickly sealed.

An elderly woman sat in a chair in the corner, head bowed against her chest, silver hair falling from her chignon. Her hands were gripping the arms of the chair. He froze. On her left ring finger was a ring.

“Remi?” He heard his name whispered, but he wasn’t sure where it came from. The room suddenly began to warp and he felt an ache in his mind. He was vulnerable, he realized, with the spirit protecting Noa. He resisted, but images began to flood his mind.

_You tried to forget, did everything possible to not remember, but you do. You remember it so well. Let it consume you._ He was suddenly frozen in the middle of a forest. His companions did nothing but point out how wicked these woods were, but he insisted he knew not of what they spoke of. He felt fine, protected, as protected as he felt within the Arbor Wilds.

Then Bolek was shouting, cursing whatever it was he began to swing his maul at. His heart stopped when a creature seemingly spawned from nowhere ripping him to shreds. Clementis moved forward without thinking, screaming at the void sent _thing_ , and before he could shout at him to get back, he too was cut down.

Remi furiously loosed arrows towards the creature, its attention set on him as he screamed. He could hear his name and it wasn’t until he felt a violent tug at his back that he realized Karolis thew him aside. He watched in horror as the creature’s talon caught him, and he rushed to help him up.

He pulled him along, not sure where to go, until they came upon a long pathway that led into the middle of the lake. Something told him to push forward, and the water pooled on top of the path splashed with their labored steps.

He could feel the ache in his heart splitting wide open, but no matter how hard he fought to not see the next moments he couldn’t break from it. They reached the end of the path. The fog wouldn’t allow the sun to cut through to reach them, but he could see something down in the depths glittering underneath the water.

Karolis’s knees buckled and they fell onto the stone path with a splash. He coughed; the sound sickening.

“No, no! You’re going to be fine, my friend. You’re going to be fine.” He pleaded with him as he laid him across his lap. He looked down at his chest and the wound cut deep through his armor.

“It’s… Okay, Remi…” He breathed, the noise he made was unsettling.

“I’m so sorry,” tears began to stream down his face.

“I’m not… I get to… see my wife again…”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he held onto his dearest friend. “This is all my fault… I shouldn’t have—”

“For fuck’s sake, shut up,” Karolis wheezed out a laugh. It was one of the first things he said to him when he came after him for the bounty. Remi let a sorrowful laugh escape him as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“You need to let go, Remi… What happened… Get out of here, live… live your life for us. You know we… we regret nothing. I know it hurts… but… let it go… let go…” he faded away and Remi sobbed.

He wished in every second thereafter for the creature to take him, and he thought he’d gotten his wish as he was swept into the water, gripped by some unknown force. He’d felt a strange calm though, and that same calm was coming back to him as he heard his name being shouted along with banging against the door.

The decrepit figure in the corner was looking at him now. Servana had aged, her youth having long left her, but he could still see her beautiful face. Full of regret and despair.

He felt a forceful shove blow him back against the wall, shattering his quiver, and nearly knocking him senseless. The demon came at him; the tendrils of its hand nearly at his throat when Servana shouted.

“Don’t hurt him,” she screamed, and the demon froze. The shadowy form of it curled around to look at her. “Don’t hurt him!”

_You don’t even remember him, old hag._

“I do… I remember him.”

Remi could feel his heart beating in his ears; it corresponded with Noa’s frantic banging at the door. He swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Servana. I’m sorry I could not love you the way you wanted me to,” he said to her.

“Remi,” she wept. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, Servana, it’s me.”

She began to sob even harder. “I’m sorry for what I did. My family… They found out I knew who you were… They promised to shelter me from the circle if I told them who you were. All I ever wanted… was for them to take me home and love me the way they did before I was a mage.”

“It’s alright,” he lied. He’d never be over it, but he was trying his hardest to be.

_He lies_.

“Va te faire foutre,” he cursed at the demon again.

“It broke my heart, but it broke more at what I did to you. They lied and sent me back to the circle. I would have told our friends sooner, but it took so long to escape again. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, Servana, make it stop!”

“I can’t,” she cried.

Remi managed to slash the demon with his dagger, and it backed away from him. She let out a cry of twisted pain. “Servana, you were a brilliant mage. You can destroy it! Break free from it,” he shouted. He realized her sorrow over betraying him was what attracted this creature. “I forgive you, Servana!” He had to try even if he didn’t believe his own words. “I’m sorry I broke your heart! It’s _my_ fault what happened to me!”

He saw the ring on her finger emit a glow as tendrils of white magic began to leave her. The demon was screeching, twisting, and contorting. _You have no mana left!_ It shouted in despair. _How?_ It howled, continuing to collapse, and he dug his dagger into its dying form. The sound was almost deafening, and finally it seemed to dissipate in a puff of black ether.

A crash startled him, and he looked behind to see Noa finally burst through the door, crashing onto the floor in a string of curses.

He looked back towards Servana as the sun began to stream through the windows. She fell from the chair and he quickly scrambled towards her. He held her in his arms as she looked up at him, a pleasant smile on her face.

“It really is you,” her weak voice wavered. Her hand trembled as she pressed cold fingers to his cheeks. “What have I done?”

“Nothing, Servana. Nothing. We… sometimes we cannot control the evil that others do.”

“Oh, Remi…” she breathed, “you’re as beautiful as the last day I saw you.”

“As are you, Servana.” He took her hand in his and closed his eyes. When he opened them back up all he saw was the pleasant smile painted on her lips. There was no life left within her.

He settled her gently on the floor. “I truly am sorry, Servana.” He felt a hand slide over his shoulder; Noa was hugging him from behind. He found her hand and held it for a moment. “We need to leave. I don’t want to be in here any longer.” He reached for Servana’s hand and pulled the ring from her finger. Another smaller band fell from the inside of his. She must’ve used it to make his fit. He slipped that one back onto her finger, and welcomed Noa’s help as she pulled him up from the floor.

They quickly left the place and ran into a man with panicked eyes in the front courtyard. “Is it gone? Is the demon truly gone?” Remi nodded and the man fell to his knees. “Thank the Maker. Bless you both!”

“What happened here,” Remi asked, though he figured he could easily piece it all back together. “ _How_ did it happen?”

“Lady de Montfort was old and frail. Her memory had left her; they thought her magic did too so the circle… They let her come home. B-but, her great nephew he… He tried to use her, tried to take any power she may have had left with this strange red shard, and… The demon came, and suddenly everything was… It was so sad. I don’t know how long I wept.”

Remi shook his head, cursing that family line in his mind. “The Montforts got what they deserved then,” he muttered, leaving the way they came despite the man’s calls. “If we keep riding, perhaps we can make it back before dawn.” He was tired as they reached their horses. “I do not want to be anywhere near this place any longer.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Noa said, just as tired as he was. “Are you alright?”

He looked at her and he saw his answer written in her eyes. “Are you?”

She shook her head, “No… but… we’ll get through it together right?”

He pursed his lips and began to nod, swallowing to try and keep the tears from escaping again. She pressed into his chest, tightly embracing him and he hugged her back. How long had it been since he’d felt the comfort of a hug? He couldn’t even answer that question. Already she’d done it twice, and she felt so good wrapped up in his arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for getting me back.” He thanked her too; for he felt the inexplicable pull of her bringing him back as well. “What a sad, depressing lot we are.” He couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter and she joined him. He couldn’t stop laughing until his sides began to ache. She smiled at him, wrapping her arms around him again. It felt good to feel even this little piece of contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Va te faire foutre: Go fuck yourself.  
> Ara ma ghilana: I will guide you.(Maybe, I pieced it together, so it could be wrong lol)
> 
> I don't know why, because I really don't write horror stuff often, but I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Perhaps the delicious angsty sorrow lol


	10. Chapter 10

It was colder than it felt it should be as they made their way back to Remi’s estate in the very late hours of the evening. They pushed their horses as much as they could handle to get as far away from that wretched place as they could. She still felt unsettled; the residual energy still hit her and tempted her to sob uncontrollably, but she held it back.

It filled her with so much pain; she still felt the ache deep in her chest. Her family’s deaths still plagued her, and it was something she couldn’t escape after all these years. Her father’s and Bethany’s probably hurt the worst while their mother’s was the most horrifying. The demon was even nice enough to play on her fear that Carver could be dead. The experience left her shaken, and it was hard to think of anything else in their quiet moments.

Remi slowed his horse to a trot as he made his way into the stable. She trailed a little ways behind him. A fond smile appeared at her lips. He was a good man even if he didn’t think so. They were both profoundly messed up. It was so easy to dish out advice to him while she ignored it for herself and vice versa. Difficult to swallow yet so easy to throw it at someone else.

She wondered what it did to him. He’d grown much more quiet the longer their ride became. She knew he was weary, but something else spooked him more than Servana’s possession. Her horse trotted into the stable, and she hopped down feeling a sharp pain up her legs. She groaned, hearing Remi chuckle a bit.

“Is there a point where we’re supposed to retire from this shit in this Age,” he asked.

“There better be. I’m forty next year. That’s practically dead these days.”

“I’m only a year behind you,” he chuckled.

“Technically, you’re almost ninety.” She gave him a wink, and he laughed.

“Touché,” he said as he pat the horses and set up some food for them. “I think I need a drink.”

“An old man after my own heart,” she teased, but saw a small smile curl to his lips as he shook his head. She pursed her lips; that giddy feeling she got when she flirted with Sebastian was beginning to come back to her. It didn’t even make her feel guilty which surprised her. She followed him inside, pulling her jacket tighter; the chilliness dwelled within.

They split off from each other. She went into the den where the fireplace rested, and she assumed he went to the kitchen for that drink. She got to work starting a fire, and quickly it was blazing within the hearth.

“Ah, much better.” She warmed her hands up. She began to unbutton her jacket, and remembered how she tore her shirt open. She stared down at the scar, tracing her finger down it till she hit the middle of her bra. Demons seemed to feel the need to reopen the wound in her mind. It was the most excruciating pain she’d ever felt in her life until she felt death taking her into a serene embrace. She didn’t know how Anders was able to heal her enough to keep her alive. She repaid him by nearly putting a knife into his heart a few years later until she stopped herself. A life for a life, she told him.

“Would you like another shirt?” She startled, turning to see Remi holding a plate of food and a bottle of wine.

“It’s fine, I didn’t rip it too badly.” She waved her hand and tossed her jacket on the couch. The fire gave off plenty of heat already and she tugged her tucked in shirt out of her pants to make herself more comfortable, and flung her boots across the room.

He was chuckling and she glanced his way, unable to tell if the rosy hue of his cheeks was due to the fire or because of her actions. “Apologies. I don’t exactly fit the criteria to be one of your proper Orlesian ladies.”

He shook his head, “Who says I’m a proper Orlesian man?”

“Touché,” she smirked at him as he handed her the bottle of wine. She took a pull from it and blanched a little. “You certainly act the part with your wine though.”

He shrugged, “Oh je suis désolé; would you like me to head to Ferelden to get you some dog piss ale?”

She burst into laughter while he grinned at her. “Oh, Maker,” she held her chest. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in ages.”

“Me as well,” he agreed, echoing her laugh. He placed the platter of food on the low table. Bread, smoked meats, fruit, and cheeses. She plopped down onto the floor, and they ate and drank. It didn’t take long for them to clean the plate, both of them venturing into the larder for more food. Sadly there wasn’t too much, but they made do with what they could find.

Eventually they were back in the den, sitting against the sofa amongst pillows and blankets piled on the floor. This seemed much more comfortable than lying on the couch.

“When I was a child, my father would throw all the pillows and blankets on the floor. My siblings and I swore it was the most comfortable place in the house. We listened as he told us story after story. Even my mother would sit in the chair across the room to listen.” She played with the edge of the blanket, sliding her fingers over the fabric.

“You’re very lucky to have such lovely memories with siblings. I was not fortunate to have any. I didn’t understand the sad look in my mother’s eyes until I was older. I realized she wanted more children.” She watched him take a sip from the bottle.

“You’re right.”

“Hm?”

She nodded, “You’re right; I am lucky to have those memories. It’s so easy to think of the bad memories, but… I still have the good ones. The only one taking those good memories away is me.” She felt his hand settle on top of hers, thumb sliding over her knuckles, and she noticed the marks on his fingertips. It ached to think of what they did to him when he was captured.

“May I… May I ask you about…” he glanced down at her chest and she started to laugh. The wine was making him blush even harder, but his curiosity must’ve compelled him to ask.

“Act two, last chapter. The fight against the Arishok. I knew there was no way I was going to get close enough to kill him. So…” She shrugged, “I’m not the smartest with battle tactics, if it’s not obvious.” She looked down at her chest again. “I let him in close, and well… His big fucking sword was as long as my lance. I was counting on him leaving an opening so at least I didn’t die in embarrassment. It worked out.”

He shook his head. “How… how did you survive?”

“Luckily it missed the important bits, I assume anyway. My… companion was able to heal me enough to stop the bleeding. It was a painful recovery though.”

“I’m sorry,” he placed his palm to his forehead. “What a fucking improper thing to ask. I wouldn’t want anyone asking about my scars.”

“Remi,” she pressed her hand to his cheek to bring his face back to her direction. “If I gave a shit about you asking I would’ve changed my shirt. This was a battle wound; it’s different.” She tapped his chin and grabbed the bottle from him. She took a few gulps and blew out a breath. “Andraste’s tits, this wine is strong,” she giggled.

“Maker, it is… It’s making me feel like a lightweight,” he groaned.

They were quiet a moment, and Hawke saw he was thinking. “Do you need to talk about it?”

He inhaled sharply as he looked at her with heavy, glassy eyes. “Hm?”

“What happened in that room. If you want to talk about it, I’m listening.” They were so close, their sides and legs pressing together. He settled his hand onto her knee, and it seemed they were both intoxicated by each other’s touch.

“Servana and I were lovers. The short story is she wanted more of me and I wanted more of… others. It was easy for her to betray me to get what she really wanted… I… I cannot blame her for it. I understand that now.”

“Ugh, feelings,” she said, and he snorted, beginning to laugh. “I cannot tell you how many of you men do exactly the same thing.”

“Pardon? Do what?”

“Want more when there isn’t more to give,” she took another swig, handing the bottle back to him and he did the same.

“I beg your pardon, but this is not true.”

“ _Trust_ me. I slept with enough love sick idiots to know. Men try to say it’s only one night of fun, but as soon as I pulled that line, it was ‘but please, Hawke, I _love_ you.’” He was laughing again.

“Riiight,” he drawled, in absolute denial.

“I used to think I was immune to love, and then the one man I shouldn’t have wanted…” She let out a sigh, “ _feelings_. Did you ever fall in love?”

“Mm…” He hummed. “Once. When I was sixteen, and the bar maid gave me the best glass of wine I’ve ever tasted.”

She laughed loudly, head leaning back against the couch. “Stop it.” He was smiling at her, the blush glowing deeper on his cheeks.

“Noa, tu es si belle,” he said, then groaned when he seemed to realize what he uttered. “I’m sorry.” She knew nothing about Orlesian, but she knew exactly what it meant.

“Well, you must be really drunk,” she tried to ease his embarrassment, and he began to laugh.

“Do not act like you do not know it,” he said, a little more bold she supposed when he realized she understood his utterance.

She smirked at him, gripping his jaw in her hand, and she wondered if it was the wine that had them so enamored or if everything had become so overwhelming these past few weeks it was beginning to overflow. If she was younger she would’ve had him on his back without a thought.

Being older, perhaps she’d become a little wiser? Or perhaps the idea of being _that_ kind of intimate and leading to feelings again terrified her. She didn’t think she could handle falling in love again. She shook her head, sliding her thumb over the scar at his cheek and the smattering of freckles painted across them. Why she thought of love when they barely knew each other escaped her. That was the problem though; she felt like she did know him.

“You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

He grinned, “I do, yet it seems I’ve lost my touch.” He leaned forward to place the empty bottle of wine onto the table and slipped down into the plush pillows on the floor. “At least lie with me so I do not feel like I lost my ability to woo women.”

She laughed loudly, but eased down to the floor with him. He pulled the blanket over them, and she let out a sigh. “I forgot how nice this was,” she muttered, cozying up to his side.

“Mm,” he hummed, “me too.”

~

When she woke the sun was violently streaming through the windows rather rudely. She wanted to keep sleeping, but the day had a different plan it seemed. She heavily sighed after taking in a deep breath. She was pushing back the invasive thoughts of the previous day, and willing the slight headache to dissipate.

She was lying on her back as Remi laid on his stomach beside her; his arm draped across her stomach, hand at her hip. He looked peaceful as he slept, and she noticed the scars at his shoulder where his tunic gapped. She was curious, carefully moving her hand to lift his shirt, but immediately felt bad as his words came back to her from last night. _I wouldn’t want anyone asking about my scars_.

She couldn’t tell how far the lash lines went, but she assumed they crisscrossed all the way down. How many times had they done it? How many times had they reopened the old wounds before they could heal? She felt sick and berated herself for this invasion of privacy. Clearly whomever captured him wasn’t trying to get information out of him. It was personal.

She ran her fingers through his hair, unable to help herself. After a moment she heard him groan.

“Mm, please don’t stop,” he rasped. “It feels nice…” He squeezed his hand at her hip, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

“You know you’re getting old when merely lying in your comrade’s presence feels enjoyable,” she muttered, and he started to laugh.

He groaned, and she turned to see his honeyed eyes on hers. “Sleeping around so often began to grow tiresome in my thirties. It was nice enough to lie in bed alone, but… lonely.”

She sighed, “It’s even worse if that person’s only a nameless stranger. It feels even lonelier.”

“Mm…” he hummed, “you’re absolutely right.” She felt like dozing off again, but there was a knock at the door. He groaned again. “Why is someone here? The caretakers weren’t supposed to be back.”

She sat up, “They wouldn’t knock either I would think. Well, you’re the Lord of the house again. Get to it,” she swatted his back playfully, and he glared at her.

He was up and heading to the door down the hall. She peeked around the corner to watch to make sure everything was fine. It was a wiry little fellow very short compared to Remi. He handed over a letter and was on his way out. He looked a little perplexed as he made his way back to the den.

He held it up, and she grimaced. _The Black Fox_ was scrawled across it. “Someone either thinks they’re clever or…”

“They think they know something.” He popped off the seal and opened it. He looked at the bottom and grimaced. “Duke Gaspard de Chalons. Oh, I’m sorry _Grand_ Duke,” he rolled his eyes. “He is inferring I stole Celene’s ring, and wants to meet with me. He thinks I’m an imposter though.”

“It’s a trap,” Hawke said and he glanced up from reading the letter.

“You think so?”

She nodded, “Yes. He already has a ring; I’m sure he wants more.”

A mischievous smile appeared on his lips. “Well, then. Shall we pay him a visit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tu es si belle: You are so beautiful.  
> Je suis désolé: I am sorry.


	11. Chapter 11

It wasn’t often that one of Remi’s foolish plots happened in broad daylight, but sometimes it was a necessity to catch his opponent off guard. He’d heard from Noa and Varric about Gaspard’s arrogance, yet his arrogance was also warranted. He was cunning, smart, and deadly; Remi dealt with his kind all too often. He may be out of touch, but he was certain it wouldn’t take much to throw him off his game.

Remi had plenty of smoke screens and sleep poisons; he knew all the trickery in the rogue playbook. He didn’t wiggle his way out of nearly all his predicaments with solely dumb luck. The only reason he wasn’t able to escape the Lord of Val Chevin’s imprisonment lay solely on the treatment he was given. Hands bound so often his shoulders still caused him pain, and plenty of tonics to keep his mind fogged. It didn’t help that his injuries also kept him from properly planning an escape.

He and Noa already parted when they were somewhat near to the city. He was confident that despite her aggressive warrior tendencies she was excellent at keeping herself well hidden. They decided that she should keep her ring on as no one would be foolish enough to steal from the Champion of Kirkwall. He left his carefully hidden back home. They planned to exploit her connections, and they had one last thread to tug should they need it; it would surely strike fear into Gaspard if they used it.

He made his way through the city, eventually finding the Chalons estate. He saw plenty of soldiers posted, as well as a number of chevaliers. He _could_ sneak his way in. Though he had no doubt that his soldiers were capable, as an opening was always available to exploit, perhaps it would be better to be announced of his arrival. It’d certainly satisfy his own smugness. He scanned the roofline spotting a window up top with a red smudge across its glass. The plan was set in motion.

It didn’t take long for a guard to notice him, so he stated he had business with the _Grand_ Duke and they sent a runner to confirm. He followed behind another servant as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t unlike other estates in Orlais. They were terribly consistent in layout. It made sneaking into most rich nobles’ estates that much more easy in the past.

There were key differences though, a little more openness in some areas to make the home seem grander, but it wasn’t long before he was escorted around hallways and indoor courtyards. It was painfully typical. He didn’t expect much though when the homes were handed down to the next generations. The most they did when they “renovated a wing” usually consisted of changing the paint to a different shade of gold and slapping some decorated paper onto the walls. And paintings. The most audacious paintings that were in ‘season’ were placed upon the walls.

He noticed the servant was attempting to confuse him, leading him up three flights of stairs only to take him down another set moments later. He smirked, it was quite amateur really. He took him down a long hallway; it seemed Gaspard fancied his office to have one entrance, though no doubt there was a secret doorway within in case he should need it. Despite the winding way the servant took him, he knew exactly where he was at. The west side of the estate overlooking a lavish pond.

The Grand Duke stood once Remi was inside, the servant announcing the fake name he gave to him. Gaspard chuckled as he sat back down behind his desk.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord… What was it again?” The servant closed the door behind him, and he heard the quiet click of the lock being turned. “Lord Henri?” Gaspard began to tsk as if he had the upper hand. Remi simply stood his ground.

“Oui, Henri.”

“Come now, you could be much more clever than that. You are posing as the famed Black Fox after all. You must give me some credit.”

Remi pretended to appear confused. “Grand Duke, it is certainly a pleasure that you would call upon a humble Lord, however I am not quite sure I understand your meaning. I’ve only recently come into my fortune and Lordship. I care for my lands and her people.”

Gaspard began to laugh. “I see, I see. You think you can outfox me. I know you were at the ball, and I know you ruined my chances to corner Celene. It wasn’t long before word spread that her rings were gone and a dashing man was the culprit. One outfitted in black and gold with a black fox mask to match. That you would be so brazen is truly impressive.”

“Please, sir, why must you slander me so?”

“A fitting description of the culprit, and suddenly the Vascal estate is now occupied. You think me a fool that I could not put two and two together.”

“Surely, my good sir, I have no idea what you are speaking of. I am no one of importance.”

Gaspard looked him over and Remi still made sure to stand his ground. He was analyzing the man just as much as he analyzed him.

“It is uncanny, really,” he said, and Remi raised a brow.

“Pardon?”

“How much you look like him.” Remi could curse that blasted painting. How many replicas were out there? “You are surprised? I take it you have been away from Orlais for quite some time. My late wife was Duke Bastien de Ghislain’s daughter. As if I wouldn’t recognize kin to Lord Vascal when his painting was displayed in the wall of his home?”

Remi smirked, “Grand Duke, this accusation is preposterous. Kin to the Black Fox? I should hope to never be associated with a rat such as that. I know nothing of their family aside from the garish tales. It’s mere coincidence I share a resemblance.”

“Is that so? You still play coy even now that I have found you in your lie? It’s painfully obvious you are a direct descendent. You are the spitting image of Lord Vascal himself. And now you reside in his old estate that Bastien had reconstructed? With an original deed?” He began to tsk. “You may think me a fool, my good sir, but I assure you I am not.”

He shrugged, “So why exactly am I here? You wish to do what?”

“I have what you seek.”

“I am not seeking anything. Only to do right by my land and business ventures.”

A twitch at his brow showed him he was getting on his nerves. Remi found it was a specialty in his youth as the Black Fox. Being as annoying as possible was a good way to throw your opponent off guard, or make them commit a foolish foul. 

“You mean to irritate me. It will not work, _Monsieur_ Vascal,” he meant to slight him with that, “I would have you perform a favor in exchange for my ring. I hear your grandfather was quite excellent at... buffoonery. If an _accident_ is arranged for my dear cousin, then I shall reward you with my ring.”

“You would give it up so easily?”

“I cannot wield a sword as I used to. An unfortunate duel left me not in my prime. I have no need for it any longer. Do we have an agreement?”

Remi began to chuckle, shaking his head, and saw the frown crease Gaspard’s brow. “You must really enjoy telling tall tales _Grand_ Duke. I am not related to the Black Fox; I did not steal the Empress’s ring,” he held up his bare fingers, “and I have zero skills for such _accidents_. Perhaps you should call upon an Antivan Crow?”

A sigh escaped Gaspard. “Tis a shame you think me a fool, Lord Vascal. We could have formed a mutually beneficial alliance. Now I will take whatever rings you have and I will make you disappear. Pierre,” he called for his guard and Remi leaned against the doorframe.

“It does not sound like anyone is coming.”

“Pierre!”

Remi smiled, it seemed Noa had done her part; a little nick here and there with his sleeping poison and most of the guards should be down. There needed to be a few left however for the next part, which was purely for the show he’d planned. Smoke began to billow into the room underneath the doorway. Gaspard rose from his chair in alarm.

“What do you think you are doing? I have a manor filled with soldiers and chevaliers; what do you hope to accomplish? I will burn down the Vascal estate just as the Lord of Val Chevin did!”

Remi tossed a vial onto the floor; thick smoke plumed within the room. Once there was sufficient cover, he reached for the chair and threw it out the window behind Gaspard. The door slammed open; guards were choking on the smoke.

“Grand Duke, are you alright?!”

“Get after him! He jumped out of the window! Go now!” The guards were back out the door and Remi stayed put, mask slipped up over his nose, but felt the sting at his eyes.

Gaspard made his way to the door, but Remi grabbed him, and he nearly shrieked as he hit the floor. “I’m here,” he heard Hawke whisper as she closed the door. The smoke was beginning to thin as it breezed out the window and Gaspard was left confused as he looked up from the floor.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Your ring, _Monsieur_ ,” Remi held his hand out. “And I spare your life.”

He scoffed, jumping up to scramble behind his desk, but Noa was at the other side of it with his sword in her hand. “Please, Grand Duke, do sit down. You’re making yourself look silly.”

“Champion? What? I don’t understand! You can’t possibly think threatening me will do any good! I know where you reside, I will tear that place apart and have you BOTH disappear! No one will miss a disgraced Champion nor a pathetic offspring of the Vascal line!”

Remi watched as Noa eased back to stand beside him. “I think you forget who I’m friends with, Gaspy. All I need to do is inform the Divine herself that you’re plotting some very wicked things, yet again, and well, I don’t believe I need to hint any further.”

He was becoming red in the face. “You have no proof.”

“Oh? I don’t? What’s this then?” She pulled out a letter from her jacket. “It didn’t seem like it was simply a love letter to your closest ally. It seemed... much more intimate after figuring out the code. Would you like me to read it aloud,” Noa asked him and Remi laughed at her theatrics. She was pretty good at this. He didn’t think the duke’s face could get any redder. “Besides, Gaspy, I’m very well connected. There’s a number of people I need only call upon and you’ll end up with your own unfortunate incident like _so_ many of your countrymen.”

“Leave at once and I shall forget this happened.”

“We need the ring,” Remi reminded him.

“I will not—“

“I don’t think someone would be very happy about this,” Remi smirked. “Hawke, do you think he’d be happy?”

“Hm? The Dread Wolf? No, no I don’t think he would be. And actually we could always just let it slip to one of his runners where this ring is and he might just save you the trouble and come get it himself since he’s also wanting to acquire them.” Remi chuckled, marveling at how quickly Gaspard’s face transitioned from red to white.

“Wh-what,” he sputtered, frightened, as if by mentioning Solas it would summon him. Remi had to admit though, he was almost worried that uttering his name would actually do such a thing.

Noa passively waved her hand in the air. “Fen’harel himself is interested in these rings. So you can give it to us now, or you can wait for him to claim it himself. I don’t think he’d be as lenient as we are.”

Gaspard warred with himself until he pulled the ring off his finger, muttering a string of curses. “Were the theatrics necessary,” he spat.

“That’s for you to decide.” Remi caught the ring as he threw it to him.

“Give me that letter back,” he demanded.

“Oh, darling, you really must think me a fool,” Noa smirked. “I think I’ll hold onto it. One can never be too certain about your future intentions.”

“You have my word. I will leave you be, so long as the Dread Wolf comes nowhere near me.”

“Well, we can’t exactly promise that,” Remi waved his hand. “So good luck.”

They were about to slip from Gaspard’s office when he called back to Remi. “Tell me... Are you truly kin to the Black Fox?”

Remi smirked, “no. Only a poor imposter.” He threw down another vial, the smoke billowed into his office. Gaspard was choking and cursing. They were swiftly on their way through the manor and out the back door.

Once far enough away and safely in the forest Remi had to stop. He began to laugh until tears came from his eyes. Irritation from the smoke allowed them to pass more freely, but he laughed along with Hawke as he leaned against the tree.

“I think he nearly shit himself when we told him about... you know.” He didn’t exactly want to say Solas’s name out loud yet again. Perhaps he was paranoid.

“Well, you weren’t wrong.” Hawke held her chest.

“Thank you for going along with everything.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. “I needed that.”

“How could I possibly resist,” she grinned. His laughter was finally dying down as he looked at her, unable to keep from smiling. Maker, did she have a wonderful laugh and infectious smile. He deeply swallowed; he shouldn’t wonder what it felt like to press his lips to hers and share that smile, yet he couldn’t help that he did. He reached for her, but his smile quickly faded, and he pulled her to his side.

“Remi, what’s—“ she stopped when she faced what stood before them. “Fuck,” she breathed.

“I see you’ve made friends, Black Fox.”

The figure before them was imposing. It never stopped being intimidating faced with one such as him. “Solas.”


	12. Chapter 12

Remi felt panic well within him. He hadn’t expected Solas to show up anywhere he’d be. He assumed that when the time came, when he had all the rings in his possession, he would find him then. He surmised he shouldn’t have spoken his name aloud.

“I’ve been curious about your progress,” his hands were clasped behind his back as he stood as rigid as a statue. “Yet, for some reason, I was unable to locate your whereabouts until a few nights past. It seems you have made several friends. I would inquire how you came about binding a spirit to your whims. I was curious as to how a mere rogue could figure out Elvhen magic, in Arlathan no less, yet it seems another party is at play.”

Remi shook his head, “I know not of what you speak. I have no way to bind spirits,” He swallowed. 

Solas stared at him for a moment. “How close are you to completing your task?”

Remi found himself growing more angry, more bold. “When were you going to tell me my friends were really dead,” he snapped. He felt Noa’s eyes on him.

Solas smiled, though for a split second he thought it was one of sorrow. His eyes must be playing tricks on him. “You have remembered then? Pity.” When his eyes slid to Noa, Remi put his arm in front of her though it did nothing to deter his gaze. “Hawke, I see you’re doing quite well these days.”

“Yes, you seem to be as well.”

“Varric still believes he can move against me? Employing old friends in the fight?”

“If you want to ask about her then do so; there’s no need to tiptoe around it.”

Remi saw the slightest change in his eyes as if she wounded him.

“You have new friends you cherish, Black Fox,” he ignored her quip. “I need not explain to you what shall happen should you fail to present the rings to me soon. I could give you an example right now should you like a demonstration.”

“No!!” Remi shouted, moving in front of Noa as Solas’s eyes began to glow. He held onto her as a blast rippled in between them and he and Noa tumbled back across the grass. Solas stood his ground, stunned a moment, until a satisfied smile appeared on his lips despite the fact his magic had been dispelled.

“Ah, so it really is you, Renan?” He seemed satisfied and Remi took the moment to look at Noa.

“I’m okay,” she put her hand on his shoulder, and they watched Solas.

“You have a strange fondness for this man. I wonder, does he remind you of—” a gust forcefully pushed itself across the clearing. He chuckled. “You cannot protect him for long, Renan. Why you wish to is fascinating in its own right.” Solas looked at them again. “You will not have her protection for much longer. It would be wise for you to heed my warning.” He walked away, and it wasn’t long before his presence was completely gone.

“It’s a shame,” Noa muttered. “I don’t remember him being so broken when I met him.”

Remi let out the breath he held as he looked at her. “That does not look like a broken man.”

“You can’t see it? He is hollow and as broken as you and me. When I met him he could barely take his eyes off Inquisitor Lavellan. I remember seeing the smile light his face up when she would bring him something as simple as berries to snack on around the campfire.”

Remi wasn’t so sure he could see that from the man they’d confronted. “Perhaps he was lying? Playing the part so no one would suspect?”

She shook her head, “no... even for a cynic like me I could see it. Everyone could see it.” She was quiet a moment. “I don’t understand, ancient God like being or not... how could he give up that kind of happiness for what he’s doing now?”

“What is he planning?” Remi leaned an arm on his knee. “I filled in the blanks, and I’m assuming destruction.”

“We’re not entirely sure, but supposedly before the fall of Arlathan the fade was a part of the world. Hahya Lavellan, the Inquisitor, said he told her nearly everything upon their last meeting. He plans to tear down the veil. He was vague on the details. I don’t know if that will cause some sort or cataclysmic reaction, or if the resulting war between him and the false gods he imprisoned will reign destruction. Either way, it seems there are other things we should be worried about as well.”

Remi blew out a sigh. “Perhaps it was best I stayed asleep…”

She let out a huff of a laugh. “You woke up at the wrong time it seems.”

He finally stood up from the ground reaching down to help her up. “Or the right time?”

She raised a brow, “Is that optimism I’m hearing?”

He chuckled, “Well…” He felt the presence of whomever this Renan spirit was. He was assuming they were protected, he certainly felt it. “If these rings are important to him. Perhaps we can use them to our own advantage,” he said softly.

The mischievous smile was now upon her own lips. She pressed her lips to his cheek. “Now you’re talking.”

~~

When they arrived back at the Vascal estate, Varric was waiting for them. “You’re not serious.” Hawke raised a brow. “You know for a fact where the last two rings are?”

He nodded, “Yeah, we’ve confirmed the rings are still in the Mantillon family. Zevran paid a visit to a few people and well, they were rather chatty without even being coerced. There were more than a few ex-servants who gave us the lay of the estate. Apparently they’re pretty… eccentric. Been there before, Freckles?”

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Usually the most elite nobles have similar estates. Most were built around the same time, and if they were built afterwards they improved upon the design. It’s rather simple to find your way around. They’re similar to the Winter Palace minus the size and splendor.”

“That should be helpful.” Varric reached for a grape while they sat at the table. “We have a bit of history with the Mantillons. When we were at the ball with the Inquisition we met the dead Lady Mantillon’s sister the Dowager, Lady Marquise Mantillon. Well, this lady was quite the character. She’s had nine husbands die under… unfortunate? Mysterious? Anyway, some curious circumstances. She actually helped us acquire a walnut farm.”

Hawke snorted, “Varric really? What the hell were your advisors doing in the Inquisition?”

He was laughing, “I know it all sounds batshit in hindsight, but… Wait did you completely gloss over the fact that she’s had _nine_ husbands who’ve all died?”

“No, I was getting to that.” She saw Remi trying to hold in his laughter out the corner of her eyes.

“I was also distracted by the walnut farm.”

“Thank you,” Hawke gestured towards him. “So what’s the deal then? Did she murder them?”

Varric shrugged, “Fuck if I know to be honest. She managed to tell it all to Hahya much to her chagrin, and despite her gaze of death, the Dowager was still tickled pink by her.”

“So what are you saying, Varric?”

“We could either lobby for an invite to her next party, it seems she has them often to find husband number ten despite swearing off love, or break in and steal things. I know Freckles has a thrill for the theatrics, but… maybe we should stay away from parties? I think we could be stirring up too much trouble in too short a time frame. Plus, we don’t really need to screw over former associates, _Hawke_.”

She waved a hand, “I wasn’t allied with the Inquisition. Besides it’s been disbanded; who cares? It was Gaspard for fuck’s sake; you barely had an alliance with him.”

“Yeah, I know, but we really don’t need word getting out that you threatened and harassed the Grand Duke. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for it, but we really should think carefully regarding the last two rings. We all show up at another party and suddenly precious Black Fox rings go missing? There’s going to be a lot of talk and hurt feelings.”

Hawke shrugged, “Well that leaves you out then. You can always tout your other connections and claim you were only doing business. I couldn’t care less. My reputation’s trash anyway.”

“Aside from Gaspard and your friend, I’m still somewhat anonymous. Mainly regarded as a silly imposter.”

“Yeah,” Varric said, rubbing his chin. “We just need to stay out of sight mainly. Someone will be expecting us at another party, and if word gets around we were asking around then the Mantillon family will have more guards.”

“Then we go in under the cover of darkness.” Remi leaned back in his chair.

“A distraction would be a good idea. Draw some guards away,” Hawke suggested. “But… the rings would surely be in the Lady Dowager’s room wouldn’t they? I’d prefer her not be in the room we’re stealing from.”

Varric bobbed his head. “Well, how about this? We don’t _attend_ a party, but we sneak in and use the party as the distraction?”

“That’s probably the best course of action. The room will be unoccupied, guards will be mainly posted to keep people out of the important rooms,” Remi said.

“The roof or the balcony,” she threw the idea out. “I think that might be the best way in.”

“So how do you two want to do this?”

She saw Remi glance her way. “I think we go in together. We’ve done well so far at each other’s sides, and she is a formidable fighter. I trust her to keep us both safe.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, Freckles.” Varric gave her a look and she rolled her eyes.

He cleared his throat. “When is her next party?”

“Couple days. I’ve got to meet up with some contacts in Val Royeaux, we should meet outside the city. You should probably avoid most places, Hawke, just to be safe.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“So, Freckles, you’re on our side now right? What’s the deal? You ready to go up against the big dread wolf and help us out?”

She looked at him, saw the sadness in his eyes. He wouldn’t be over remembering his friends died so quickly. He nodded, “Yes. I should warn you though, we had a run in with him.” Remi turned his attention to his hands on the table. “I remembered that my friends are no longer alive, so the leverage he is using now is Noa. And I assume you by proxy. If I don’t do what he wants then…”

Varric waved a hand. “I’m not afraid of Chuckles.”

Hawke sent a look of disbelief his way. “I don’t think your old companion is still in there. Perhaps you should tell him the other thing,” she said to Remi.

“I uh… I don’t know how it happened, but I think a spirit has been following me. It was there when I found the rings, and there again in Arlathan. Solas seems to think he knows her, that she’s protecting me.”

“She dispelled his magic when he confronted us.”

Varric leaned forward, “You’re shitting me? You’ve got a spirit protecting you?”

Remi shrugged, “I don’t want to exploit her.”

“No, no, I get it. But I think we should head to Skyhold. Hahya and Broody were making their way there. She’s been brushing up on old elfy things, so we should probably discuss it with her. Plus, she’s kind of sensitive to spirits after the anchor situation.”

“It can’t hurt.” Hawke looked to Remi. “Your rings; your decision?”

Remi nodded, “I believe we should try and do what we can to combat him. If that mirror in the stronghold leads to something that could be beneficial to you, and not for him, then I think it’s work a shot.”

Hawke smiled at him, and he returned it. “Perhaps things are looking a little brighter.”


	13. Chapter 13

The night lit up in a flash of lightning while thunder rumbled a few moments later. The air felt oppressive as Remi and Noa scaled the estate, plenty of attendees already making their way inside. They were in for a storm later, and he hoped that they wouldn’t be caught in a storm of their own.

They rendezvoused with her and Varric’s friend Zevran, a former Antivan Crow and Remi met him with a bit of caution. He couldn’t be certain the Crow contract was out of his name, but Zevran laughed and told him he had nothing to worry about. Fifty years had passed, he should be fine. He wasn’t so sure he could trust that, but since Noa did it eased his apprehension.

They carefully made their way across the rooftop trying to find the perfect spot for an opening. Zevran snuck in already to play the part of a servant, and the plan was to cause a distraction if they needed it. They found a window at a dormer and Remi got to work fiddling with it.

“I could always smash it?” He snorted at Noa’s suggestion.

“We’re supposed to be quiet.”

“Yes, I know, but this is taking a bit longer than I thought, and I’m already tired.”

“Getting impatient now of all times,” he chuckled.

“Well… Things have been going well so far; something’s bound to go wrong.”

He scoffed, “Nonsense. Where is your newfound optimism?”

“Buried underneath ‘you’ve been lucky so far.’”

He popped the window open finally. It was stuck from misuse and he eased it open, a loud screech causing him to cringe.

“Well, hopefully that didn’t wake the neighborhood,” she squeezed through the small opening and he followed suit. They were in the upper rafters of attic space. “Maker, it’s boiling up here,” she whispered. It was very hot, he wanted to strip himself, but he had to endure. Noa untied her jacket, and he almost laughed.

“Let’s get out of here,” he crouched low treading as lightly as he could across the beams, and finally they made their way down and out. It was mostly dark on these upper halls; it seemed they used most of these rooms for storage. They peeked into several to make sure. They needed to head down another flight for the Lady Dowager’s quarters according to Zevran. It should be facing the garden.

Noa stopped and held her arm out, and he finally heard the footsteps. They ducked into a room, slipping behind some furniture. They heard doors opening, followed by pathetic sighs. A man was grumbling as he closed their door and moved onto the next one. Once they were sure he was gone they made their way out tip toeing along.

Down the stairs, the sconces shone brightly along the walls. It would be harder to sneak in the broad light of the hall, but they had to be careful and keep their ears open. Noa was still wearing her ring, and it seems it’s served her well over the years.

They could hear the music and revelry as they searched. “We need to get the guard away from her door. I’ll draw him out and you head in and start searching.” He nodded at her suggestion.

“Try not to get too tied up.”

“I don’t plan on being the one tied up,” she winked at him, easing around the corner as he ducked into the doorway of a room. He glanced around and saw the guard immediately on alert. He brandished his sword and he was about to swoop in to help when Noa managed to knock his sword out of his hand and pricked him with the dagger he gave her. She covered his mouth as he fell to the floor and he rushed over.

“He was far more into his guard duty than I thought.” She shrugged, and he laughed a moment before opening the door and looking within. A strong aroma of roses hit him hard and fast and he shook his head. The smell was pleasant though, familiar to other Orlesian balls he’d been to in the past.

Noa began to drag the guard into the room and he helped her stuff him under the bed for safe keeping.

“He’s not going to enjoy waking up,” she laughed. He began to crack up as he closed the door, checking to make sure there was no one else coming down the hall. “You really think she’s going to have them somewhere in here? What if she’s wearing them?”

Remi shrugged, “Then I suppose we’ll have to rely on Zevran being observant.”

He opened drawers, carefully pulling things out and grimaced at some quite personal things he’d rather not see. He felt Noa’s presence as she leaned over his shoulder.

“Oh, I see Lady Mantillon enjoys taking care of herself.”

He snorted, “Orlesians enjoy their toys. They get them from Tevinter and Antiva.”

She hummed as he set her chin on his shoulder. “Do they now? And you?”

He scoffed, “I don’t need toys.”

“Ohh, is that right?” She held up her hand, a ring between her fingers. “How about this toy.”

“You found one!” He turned to face her. The grin on his face reflected on her own.

“Jewelry box. But it’s the only one I found.” They continued to carefully rummage around for another until they could hear something outside.

“Shit,” she cursed, and they both looked towards the balcony exit that was on the far side of the room. There was giggling outside the door and they scrambled. Remi opened the wardrobe as they quickly dove in, becoming smushed between puffy ensembles. Once they shut the doors, they could hear the incessant giggling of the Lady Dowager grow louder and her lover’s voice.

His eyes adjusted slightly to the darkness and he saw Hawke make a face. “I wonder how long they’ll be.” She whispered quietly. “Hopefully her guard doesn’t wake up,” she muttered, and he had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.

He settled down, noticing their proximity. It was hot within their confines, both of them pressed against one another. He was all too aware now of her presence, and she settled her hands against his chest. The scent of roses wafted within, and he felt warm in a different sense. With Noa being nearly the same height as him, their faces were dangerously close.

He swallowed hard, and he felt her hand slide up to his shoulder. “What is that flower,” she whispered, her nose brushing against his.

“Ah…” he tried to gather his thoughts, but with how close they were he was having trouble. “The Orlesian Blood Red Rose. Its scent is very potent. It’s mostly used to… enhance the mood.”

“Is it now? I thought red roses were common?”

“Red roses, yes, but blood roses… Are different.”

“Mmhm…” She hummed. He heard a moan of the man’s name escape the Lady’s lips, and Noa smirked. “Isn’t that your fake name?” She whispered through a chuckle.

He groaned lightly, “it sounds like it.”

“I feel your hands roaming, Remi.” A huskiness practically smothered her voice.

“Apologies, I had not meant,” he was flustered, his thoughts wandering off, taken in by the intoxicating scent of the blood roses, as well as the scent of her. He hadn’t realized his hands were at her hips.

“It’s alright,” she said, their lips catching in a featherlight brush, so close, but so achingly far away. He felt her other hand gliding down his chest, reaching his hip, and he knew she had to feel the reaction her simple touch had. “Oh, Remi.” The breathy way she said his name nearly unraveled him.

He was about to seal the gap between them when a shrill cry from the Lady Dowager pierced through their haze. Her footsteps practically thundered down the hallway as her sobbing echoed off the walls. They quickly popped out the wardrobe, and they saw her lover on the bed, ass in the air, and dead still.

“Well, fuck, so much for number ten,” Noa smarted off, and they could hear the sounds of footsteps pounding down the hall and armor rattling. “Shit.”

Remi grabbed her hand and led her to the open doors of the balcony. They stood off to the side, hoping they found no reason to check out here.

“We, we were in the heat of the moment, and suddenly,” the Dowager wailed, “he groaned loudly and—and he stopped moving!!” Noa slapped her hand over her mouth, inhaling, trying not to laugh. Tears were pooling at her eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to start laughing himself.

“It’s not funny, but it’s so funny,” she softly wheezed as the guards began yelling inside. Someone shouted to find a doctor, and all they could hear was the Lady’s crying.

“We should go,” Remi finally managed to say, and he peered over the balcony. There was a pool devoid of people down below in the gardens, and a balcony directly beneath their own. There were no lights streaming through the room’s windows. He ushered for Noa to follow him and he stepped over the balcony, swinging and lightly landing on the one below. Noa followed, but she landed awkwardly onto the rail, breaking it, and before he could catch her she fell down below with a loud splash.

He looked over seeing her cringe as she surfaced, pushing her hair out of her face. She waved at him to go inside, and she started to laugh as she looked away from him.

“The water was too lovely to resist,” she said to someone who started to laugh. “Apologies, I had too much to drink and I merely slipped,” she tried to mock an Orlesian accent and he swore his side was going to burst if he continued to hold in his laughter. She nodded up to him and he did the same, heading inside.

He made his way back up to the roof, knowing that they needed to get going soon or else they stood to get into a lot more trouble. They’d simply have to regroup and try again for the other ring. He didn’t want to think about if she didn’t have it. He had no other leads, and he wasn’t sure if Noa and her friends did either.

The lightning sizzled in the air and caused him to jump at the sudden crack of thunder. The rain began to pour and he groaned as he tried to be careful. He wanted off this roof as fast as he could; getting struck by lightning wasn’t on his agenda. He managed to climb his way down the trellis in the pouring rain, and found the spot where they climbed over the walls.

He made it into the woods and amidst the pouring rain managed to find their rendezvous spot. He grew a little nervous as he waited for Noa, hoping that nothing happened and she was on her way out.

His mind wandered back to the closet and that moment they almost shared. Kissing her had been on his mind; he couldn’t deny it. He hadn’t felt a spark like this since long before he’d been captured. He traveled around for a while and the emptiness inside him continued to grow. He thought discovering the lost Elvhen city would awaken something inside him, something to make him feel again. It only served to fuel his emptiness. If he hadn’t been taken into the waters and put to sleep, he didn’t know what he would have done.

Being awakened he felt the same emptiness inside of him and it was driving him insane. Solas gave him hope, while he refused to dig for his memories, that his companions could be saved. He knew somewhere deep down that they were gone, but he didn’t want to believe it. Keeping that hope alive was enough to push him forward.

If Noa hadn’t found him, hadn’t snuck her way underneath his skin, he couldn’t be sure where he’d be after remembering the truth. It wouldn’t be any place good; he knew that for certain.

But her flirting made him feel good, made him feel like his old self again. He knew they probably shouldn’t, was she even over her old lover? Would she go back to him? Prince Vael had far more to offer her than he did. Who knew what sort of revenge the Dread Wolf would want to impose upon him? And he’d already made enemies in Orlais again.

He shook his head, his thoughts taking him as the rain continued to cascade down upon him. Noa still wasn’t back yet, and he was about to go back to the estate when he heard something in the woods.

“Remi?” Her voice called and he moved until he saw her. It was so dark, but when a crack of lightning illuminated their surroundings he caught a glimpse of her, breathless, as she braced her hands upon her thighs.

“I had to make a quick getaway. I think Zevran distracted some guards away as well. They were quite confused. No one is sure whether other Henri died from a heart attack or poison.” She chuckled, but he found himself breathless as well.

“I’m glad you’re alright. I was about to come back,” he finally said something.

“Worried about me?” He heard her voice dip as she moved near to him, and Maker he couldn’t take it any longer. He moved closer to her before he stopped, but she grabbed his jacket and pulled him to her chest. He pressed her back against the tree, so close to kissing her right then and there. He felt her hand on his jaw, their noses touched, but a voice cut through the sound of the rain and Remi back away.

“Anyone here?”

He heard Noa take a breath before she spoke, “Yes, Zevran, over here.”

He joined them. “I could not have planned it all better myself.” He began to chuckle. “Our good Lady Dowager had eyes for a man I realized I owed a death to. I hope it did not interfere with the other plan?”

“We only found one ring,” Noa answered.

“We should head back to the inn and regroup. I do not think it’s wise to go back in when there is so much commotion,” Remi said to them.

“There is no use. I was able to check the treasure rooms, I did not find any precious jewelry, nor rings that matched your descriptions. If you did not find it with the other, I do not believe she has it.”

“Who else could she have given it to,” Noa wondered, and Remi was thinking the same. He wasn’t up to date yet on just what noble lines were around anyway.

“We should figure it out later, my friends,” Zevran said, and they all agreed, heading back into the nearest town. The weariness and fatigue of the evening wore on him, but when he saw Noa looking towards him in the night, he couldn’t help feel a fire within him. He wanted her; he couldn’t deny it.


	14. Chapter 14

Remi set his hands on the counter in the washroom, raindrops dripping from his face. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts. He felt warm despite the cold chill and his sopping clothes soaking him to the bone. The heat threatened to overwhelm him. He could blame it on the roses all he wanted, but he knew having Noa in his bed had been on his mind for a while.

He hesitated though, and that caused him to falter. He didn’t falter in his past; he took charge and went after a night of pleasure when he wanted it. The thought finally occurred to him that he didn’t want only one night. He barely knew her, but again the thought resurfaced about how kindred their spirits felt, and he couldn’t explain why.

He undressed himself; his clothes hit the floor in loud plops. The water still dripped from him, and he took a towel to finally dry himself off. He dressed in some dry clothes trying to calm himself. They could share a room; they were adults. But, Maker, if she flirted with him again the way she had been then he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to resist her and the turmoil of feelings raging within him.

He opened the door and looked out; Noa’s clothes were in piles across the floor. He looked over to see her silhouette clad in a tunic at the doorway to the balcony. She leaned on it; the rain still poured while the lightning and thunder put on a show. He heard the strum of a lute underneath it all.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and when she looked away he couldn’t help looking at those long, bare legs of hers. He swallowed, trying to find something to distract himself and grabbed the bottle of wine Zevran said he swiped from the party.

He tugged the cork out the bottle and took a whiff, “merde,” he cursed, listening to Noa chuckle as she turned to look at him.

“What’s the matter? Not up to your lofty standards?” She stepped towards him and he shook his head.

“It smells like roses,” he said, his voice getting stuck in his throat.

“Does it now?” She swiped the bottle from his hand and sniffed. The smirk she gave him nearly sent him off, and she took a swig before handing it back to him. “Not bad.” She stood her ground in front of him, and he took a pull of the wine himself. “Remi… I’m tired of resisting this…” her voice was low, husky. He nodded, and she smirked, inching nearer to him. She reached for the bottle and drank a bit more, setting it down on the bedside table.

He felt intoxicated already, and he wondered what he should do. He warred with himself, when normally he would’ve come up with something witty. He wasn’t sure why he held himself back, but something still nagged at him. He listened to the lute player lilting out a tune, her words drifting to him despite the rainfall.

“It sounds better in Orlesian, admittedly,” Noa said. “I remember hearing it in the tavern at Skyhold.” She was so close. “Find me still searching, for someone to lead me… Can you guide me, to the revolt inside me,” she hummed, but those weren’t the words he heard. The Orlesian version was different.

He palmed her cheek, “the translation isn’t the same.”

“Is it not?” She smirked at him.

“Here or elsewhere if life is better; I follow you fearlessly… in the chaos of my heart.” He ran his thumb over her lips.

“Well, that sounds much better.” She nodded and the heat felt like it consumed him. He felt her hand on the outside of his thigh sliding up. She waited for him, edging him ever so nearer to her. He could smell the rose wine on her breath. He eased closer to her lips when a knock sounded at the door. Noa let out a curse and he felt like all his senses came back to him. She brushed past him towards the door and when he heard Zevran’s voice he turned to look.

“Apologies, but I fear we will have no rest. There are guards from Lady Mantillon’s ball roaming the village as we speak. We need to leave while the cover of rain shields us.”

He blew out a sigh, heading to the washroom to gather his soaked clothes. There was no point in putting fresh travel gear on when the rain still poured outside. He wrung them out, feeling every bit uncomfortable as he managed to slide them all back on. His coat was heavy and sopping, and he did his best to squeeze some water out before he put it back on.

He stepped out seeing Noa had dressed in her wet clothes as well. A string of curses leaving her.

“Well, this is one surefire way to kill a mood,” she grumbled as she put her own jacket back on, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a drink. “You’re right, this wine is shit…”

He chuckled, grabbing his things and making sure all of the rings were safely on his fingers then put a pair of gloves on. He glanced over to make sure Noa’s was still on her thumb.

“Let’s go… we’ve a long night ahead of us…” he said and watched her nod after she snorted. She looked him up and down and he wanted to cross the distance between them to press a kiss to those lips, but he knew better. He wasn’t so sure they could stop themselves and he wanted more than a quick thing.

With all their belongings gathered they headed out into the stormy night.

~~

By the time they’d made it to the Inn Varric was staying at, it was evening again, the rain was still pouring. Hawke felt exhausted, and she stripped down and found a dry tunic, hitting the bed immediately.

When she woke she found the sun had not yet risen yet did find she shared a bed with someone. Remi was beside her, sleeping on his stomach. She immediately felt a tight heat coil between her legs at the thought of them in bed together, but she pushed those feelings aside, exhaustion still weighing heavily upon her.

She couldn’t help noticing how he slept on his stomach; her conclusion being it became habit after his imprisonment. She could see the scars dipping below the neckline of his shirt. She slid her hand up his flank, soft sigh escaping him as she tugged on his arm. He moved on his side and she tucked herself alongside him. She wondered if he was awake as he pulled her closer to him, breathing her in and letting out a content sigh.

She felt reminded of the intimacy she shared with Sebastian. He was, after all, the first man she’d ever been that kind of intimate with. Plenty of sex predated him, but she never stayed, never only slept in the comfort of another man’s arms. She found in quiet moments she did miss Sebastian, but knew in her heart that that was over. She remembered their last night together; it was bittersweet.

A mess is what she felt like. In another man’s arms and she thought about Sebastian. She started to wonder if she really was over him the way she thought. Perhaps that’s why she felt so much hesitation. She pushed the thoughts aside and draped her arm over his side, sleep taking her not long after.

The next time she awoke she was alone; the sun rudely shining in her eyes. She almost hoped it was still raining, but she figured she needed the ill-mannered awakening to get her up. She washed up and dressed quickly, heading out to find Varric.

“Hey, Hawke. I trust you slept well,” he grinned up at her and she rolled her eyes.

“We slept.”

He put his hand up, “I didn’t infer anything.”

“Uh huh, just fishing for your usual book details. I’m assuming there’s a book in the works.”

Varric scoffed, “What? What are you talking about?” He feigned innocence.

“Right, right… How’s it coming along.”

“Actually, I’ll need you to fill in some details about—”

She started to laugh but noticed Varric’s silly grin soon dissipated. “What? You only get that look when there’s something you don’t want to tell me.”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Considering your blooming ‘friendship’ you might want to know something. I ran into Choir Boy in Val Royeaux. He uh… took a trip to Kirkwall to discuss our alliance and I assume he and Aveline got to talking.” She felt her heart flutter. “He wants to see you.”

She wished she had a drink she could down, because she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. “Oh, I see…”

“Look, I never pried, you have to give me credit for that. But you two were weirdly very much in love. What happened? I assumed it was because you let Blondie live…”

She shrugged, “No it wasn’t that… Yes, he was furious, but after we talked he calmed down. It was more he’s the rightful heir and needed to be that, and I’m the eternal fuck up. I would only bring him down.”

“Hawke,” Varric groaned, “don’t do that to yourself.”

She shook her head. “You were there for all of it, Varric, it’s not as if it’s false. Do you really believe I could’ve gone to Starkhaven and been part of that kind of life?”

He chuckled, “Well, you got me there. But you didn’t try. Who knows, maybe the life of a royal could’ve suited you?” They laughed together and she shook her head.

“I felt suffocated enough living up in Hightown. No… It was best that we parted.”

“Well, it seems like you two need to talk it over again. He had that sad, kicked puppy look when he asked about you. Considering how close you and Fox have become, it’s probably best you figure out what you want first.”

She let out a groan, “Oh, Varric, I don’t need this right now… We have to figure out what we’re going to do about the tenth you know what. We didn’t find it at you know where and Zevran thinks it’s not there. So I think we’ve reached a dead end.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, and I think we should regroup to Skyhold. Hahya and Fenris should be there, and she sent a missive she wants to see Freckles.”

Hawke nodded, “Alright… I suppose that’s the best course of action.” She was quiet a moment, glancing over at Varric.

“He’s going to be at that little eatery in the city by midday. You might want to head there now to catch him. He said he’d go every day for a few days just in case you decided to go.”

Blowing out a sigh, she looked herself over. “Well, it’s probably best we had a talk…” She looked up in time to see Remi turn to go back down the hallway. She felt a tug of guilt. She really hoped he hadn’t heard their conversation. It would be her luck.


End file.
